“Oh, hello,” she said breezily, like she was greeting a casual acquaintance she hadn’t seen in months. “I lost track of time. Did you have a nice afternoon?”
He reached out to grip either side of the door frame with his hands, making him look even broader than normal. He’d taken off his hat and his hair was rumpled and sticking up in several places, as if he’d been raking his hands through it. He still wore his heavy canvas jacket and his cheeks were bright pink, his eyes tired.
“No,” he told her, moving toward the desk, “my afternoon sucked.” He pressed his knuckles against the cherry top and leaned forward, the scent of winter and ranch work spilling off him. “I’d thought I was going to spend it with you, and instead I’ve been dealing with an emergency with one of the propane heaters.”
“Oh,” she breathed as relief rushed through her. He hadn’t ditched her after all. There’d been a ranch emergency. He definitely looked exhausted and unhappy.
“You could have told me,” she blurted even though he didn’t owe her an explanation. He didn’t owe her anything. But her feelings had been bruised, and it was hard to let that go.
He straightened, and she thought he might walk away. “You did good getting the tree in on your own. I would have helped.”
“I wasn’t sure you were coming back.”
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.
She shrugged. “This is stupid. You don’t want to hang out with me. You don’t even want me on the ranch. It’s silly for us to try to be friends.”
“Friends,” he repeated, chewing on the word like it was something he’d never tasted before. “Are we friends, Lucy?”
“You tell me, Caden.”
“I’d like to be your friend,” he admitted after a moment, “but that doesn’t change how I feel about your mother.”
“Maybe we should leave my mom and your dad out of this,” she suggested. “At least for a little while.”
“Good idea.” One side of his mouth quirked. “An even better idea would be a shower.”
Lucy felt her mouth drop open, as those darned butterflies did their thing in her belly.
Caden chuckled. “Me in the shower,” he clarified. “Alone.”
She blew out a breath. “I knew that.”
His slow grin widened. “I need to wash off this day and after that, I’d like to eat dinner and decorate the tree.” He arched a brow. “The dinner and decorating part with you.” He frowned when she didn’t answer. “If you don’t have other plans?”
She barked out a laugh. “No plans. But I don’t cook.”
“I do,” he told her. “Give me ten minutes.”
“You can shower and get changed in ten minutes?” Lucy wasn’t high maintenance, but that seemed lightning fast.
“Want to watch?” he asked.
She felt color flood her cheeks. “Of course not.”
“Liar,” he whispered and walked out of the room.
She thought about throwing the stapler at his head, but the thought of someone cooking dinner for her was too appealing. Maureen was a fabulous cook, but she chose to use her culinary skills only when a man was involved. When her mother was in a relationship, they ate like kings.
But when it was just the two of them, Lucy had become adept at heating canned spaghetti and various frozen dinners. As a result, she’d come to view cooking as another form of manipulation—a tool in her mother’s arsenal for snaring whatever man she’d set her sights on in the moment.
Even when Lucy had moved out on her own, she’d refused to learn to cook. Her lack of culinary skills drove her mother crazy, and it had been a weak form of rebellion but one Lucy’d never outgrown.
When she heard the shower turn on in the hall bathroom, she jumped up from the chair and practically tripped her way down the stairs. It would be pure torture to sit there and imagine Caden stripping off his clothes and stepping under a steaming hot shower.
She’d been through plenty in her life, but torture wasn’t high on her to-do list.
She stumbled toward the front door, trying hard to push the image of a naked Caden from her brain. She yanked open the door and stepped out onto the front porch, hoping the bracing air would cool the fire raging through her body.
Her breath came out in puffy clouds in front of her face, and she dug her toes into the ice-cold coir doormat.
“Everything okay, Lucy?” a deep voice called.
She glanced up to see Chad staring at her from across the driveway.
“Just enjoying December in Colorado,” she shouted, giving him a wave.
He looked at her like she’d lost her mind, and maybe that was true. Never had she reacted to a man like she did to Caden. In fact, she’d always secretly judged her mother for having no willpower when it came to guys and falling so fast and hard whenever a handsome man crossed her path.
Now Lucy feared she’d inherited more from her mom than a decent complexion and a love for jelly donuts.
When Chad continued to stare, she waved again and backed into the house. She made her way to the kitchen and opened the fridge, hoping to distract herself by finding something to start for dinner. There were various containers of cheese and meat and a whole drawer full of vegetables, but to Lucy it felt like trying to read a book in a foreign language.
Finally she pulled out a head of lettuce, a yellow bell pepper and a bag of baby carrots. At least she was fluent in salad.
She was chopping a handful of carrots when Caden walked into the room, and she promptly came close to cutting off the tip of her finger.
Usually he was handsome in his rancher gear of the ubiquitous denim shirt and Carhartt jacket, but tonight he wore a plain white T-shirt that stretched across his chest and low-slung jeans hugging his muscled legs in a way that made her mouth go dry. From under one sleeve she could just see the shadow of dark ink. Not surprising for a man like Caden, but the urge she had to trace her fingers and tongue across his skin was shocking.
She schooled her features and offered a smile she hoped came off as friendly and not predatory. The truth was that outside her outrageous desire for Caden, she actually liked him. If she discounted the fact that he pretty much despised her mother and wanted Lucy off the ranch and out of his life.
Conflicting goals when it came to their parents notwithstanding, she had fun with him. She respected his work ethic and his protective instinct when it came to Garrett.
Of course, her heart melted at what he was doing to rescue and rehome the animals in his care. He made her laugh and he got her humor. It wasn’t natural for Lucy to feel comfortable hanging out with men. She’d been raised to see them as either conquests or not worth her time. But it was easy to be herself around Caden.
She figured nothing she did would change his opinion of her or her mom, but the camaraderie was a nice break from the normal anxiety she felt with guys.
So she didn’t want to mess up this chance for friendship, as fleeting as it might turn out to be.
“Feel better now?” she asked casually, and he nodded.
“When I was deployed, I used to dream about long, hot showers.”
“How long were you in the army?”
He opened the refrigerator and grabbed an armload of food. “I did two tours in Afghanistan and one in Iraq.”
“Did you like it?”
He shrugged. “I was a decent soldier, and I liked that. It made my dad laugh how quickly I took to the routine and discipline of military life when I’d chafed against every rule he ever set for me.” He was quiet for a moment as he placed the containers and bags of food on the counter. Then he added softly, “I thought I’d be a lifer.”
“But you got out to help on the ranch after your brother died.”
“I owed it to Garrett.”
“Why?”
“Tyson died while I was on leave. It was on a rock climbing trip on the other side of the pass that I was supposed to take with him. If I’d been there...” He shook his head. “He was rappelling down the last pitch of a route he knew well, but he lost sight of the end of his rope and thought it would reach the ground. He fell from about thirty feet in the air. By the time the other climbers got to him, he was gone. I would have been the strongest one in the group. I could have—”
“You can’t do that,” Lucy interrupted, reaching for his arm. She wrapped her fingers around his wrist and squeezed. “You weren’t there. It wasn’t your fault.”
He stared at her hand like having someone touch his skin was unfamiliar to him. “We weren’t speaking at the time,” he said, his voice desperately hollow. “Tyson had moved to Denver for a job and only came back to Crimson once a month. I’d fallen hard for a woman I met on leave—a waitress here in town. Turns out she was his girlfriend, and she’d gone after me to punish him for not taking her with him when he left.”
“What a bi—” Lucy stopped when Caden yanked his arm away from her.
“He tried to convince me she was using both of us, but I wouldn’t listen. I accused him of being jealous because someone finally picked me over him. Things got heated and we both said things... I said things I didn’t mean.” He closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them again the stark pain in their green depths stunned Lucy.
“You loved him,” she whispered. “I barely know you and I can see that in you. He knew it.”
He gave a humorless laugh. “I can be a real prick when I set my mind to it.”
She arched a brow. “I’m shocked.”
The corners of his eyes crinkled but he didn’t smile. “Tyson first brought me home when he realized my foster dad was taking out his temper on me. I know he’s the one who convinced Garrett to adopt me.”
“Your father is a grown man who makes his own decisions.”
“Yeah, but he and Tyson were a team after Julia died. I owe everything I have to my brother, and I repaid him first by betraying him then by turning my back on him when he called me out on it.”
He stepped closer, crowding her against the counter. “It wasn’t a joke when I said I’d hurt you, Lucy. I ruin everything good that comes into my life.”
A part of her wanted to run. As much as she tried to be tough, Lucy knew she was close to losing her heart to this man. She’d never been much of a rescuer, but something about Caden pulled at her soul. She wanted more than anything to help him heal. But she was smart enough to believe what he told her. She could very easily end up hurt.
Right now it didn’t matter.
“But I’m not good for you,” she said, tipping up her chin to meet his intense gaze. “Remember, I’m the enemy. That should keep me safe.”
“Safe,” he repeated, but his shoulders lowered slightly. “That’s funny.” He lifted his thumb to her mouth, traced it over the seam of her lips, then tugged down on the lower one.
Lucy forced herself not to moan at the touch. Despite his warnings and the very real risk of being hurt, she felt safe with him. He lowered his head and all she wanted was his mouth on hers. Then her stomach gave a loud rumble, breaking the spell between them.
He stepped away and moved toward the refrigerator. “You need to eat.”
“What are we making?” she asked, impressed that her voice didn’t shake.
He took a beer from the refrigerator and glanced over his shoulder. “Want a drink? There’s beer in the fridge. Garrett has wine downstairs.”
“A beer is fine.”
He handed her a bottle, and she traced a finger over the blue mountains on the label.
“Chicken tacos tonight,” he told her. “You’ve got a good start on the salad.”
“How else can I help?” She twisted the cap off the beer and took a long drink. Despite the snow she could still see coming down outside the kitchen window, the cool liquid refreshed her overheated body.
“Grab the spices from the cabinet.”
She laughed. “Can you be more specific? I wasn’t joking when I said I don’t cook.”
He rattled off a list of spices and pointed to the cabinet next to the stove.
“Mind if I ask why you don’t cook?” he asked as she began collecting the colorful jars on the counter. “One thing I’ll say for your mom is that she knows her way around the kitchen.”
Lucy’s hand jerked, and a container of cumin clattered onto the counter. “She cooks to impress men,” she answered honestly. “And she wanted me to learn for the same reason. It tainted cooking for me.”
He gave her a small nod. “You’re not your mother. You know that, right?”
“Of course,” she whispered and turned back to the spice cabinet, blinking away tears. She wanted to believe that but she’d never trusted that she wouldn’t turn into her mother if she weren’t careful. Genetics was a powerful influencer.
They worked in mostly companionable silence for the next thirty minutes, Caden giving her only occasional directions. Soon the rich scent of spicy chicken and black beans filled the room. He showed her how to heat tortillas over the stove. Then she offered to grate a block of cheese, strangely proud to be helping with the meal.
Whenever her mom had given her tasks when cooking, it had felt like she was an indentured servant. But like everything with Caden, tonight felt new and real and like it belonged just to her.
Chapter Seven
Caden didn’t understand why a simple dinner of chicken tacos eaten at the farmhouse kitchen table felt like a five-star meal, but he couldn’t stop the stupid smile that curved his mouth every moment he wasn’t chewing.
He’d made a thousand meals in this kitchen, but tonight was different. Lucy made it different. They cleaned up the plates and moved to the living room, her enthusiasm trickling into his bones and making him truly excited at the prospect of decorating her scrawny Christmas tree.
“We start with lights, right?” she asked, and he nodded. She pulled the strands of colored lights from one of the boxes, and they strung them around the tree, working together like they were old friends.
Friends.
Tyson had been the first friend Caden had ever had, and every day he felt the loss of his friend and brother like there was a hole in his heart. It felt wrong that this woman was quickly filling it, as if his happiness was somehow disloyal to Tyson. He’d had buddies in the army but had been remiss about staying in contact with them since he’d gotten out.
“These ornaments are so sweet,” Lucy said, drawing his attention to where she knelt on the floor next to one of the boxes. She held up the wooden figures of a raccoon and deer, rough and rudimentary.
“I used to carve a new ornament for Garr—” he cleared his throat “—for my dad every year. It was the only thing he asked for each Christmas. They were pretty bad at the beginning, and I’m surprised he even trusted me with a knife.”
“They deserve pride of place,” she said, walking over to hang the small animals from branches at the front of the tree. The exact spot Garrett gave to his tiny creations every year. They hadn’t bothered to put up a tree last year, and Caden hadn’t realized how much he missed the tradition until now.
“These were from Tyson’s mom,” he said, handing her a box of vintage balls of all different colors. “I guess they hung on her family’s tree when she was a girl. Maybe we don’t mention that part to your mom.”
“Maybe not,” Lucy agreed as she took the box and hung the ornaments.
She looked so damn beautiful in the soft light from the Christmas tree. He continued to give her ornaments to hang, explaining the significance of each one. Pretty soon all that was left w
as the beaded star.
“You should do the star,” she told him, crossing her arms over her chest. “I kind of took over trimming the tree.”
“I liked watching you,” he said honestly. Hell, he could watch her take out the trash and would probably find it fascinating.
He took the star and stretched up to place it on the top of the tree. As kids, he and Tyson had argued about who got to put the star on top until Garrett had grabbed it from their hands and announced he’d be in charge of the star every year.
“It’s beautiful,” she whispered when he stepped away. Her palms were pressed together and her eyes shone with delight.
“Beautiful,” he repeated and moved toward her, wrapping his hand around hers and tugging her closer. He brushed his lips across hers, which he’d wanted to do all day. The tightness that had been clamped around his chest for so long loosened ever so slightly. To Caden the change felt like the slight shift of snow that could start an avalanche. He was scared as hell of being buried under the weight of it.
So when she leaned in, he pulled back, ignoring the shadow that crossed her eyes.
“I need to check on the animals one more time tonight. Thank you for a great evening.”
As goodbyes went, it was pathetic. But he didn’t know how to rein in his feelings for her. Without dinner to make or a tree to trim, there were no distractions. Nothing to keep him from putting his hands all over her. That was a terrible idea, even though his body shouted it would be the best way to end this evening.
“Can I help?” she asked, biting down on her bottom lip.
“It’s cold and snowy out there. The barn is heated but it’s not—”
“I think I can handle it,” she said with a laugh, then frowned. “Unless this is you brushing me off?” She stared at him a moment. “Right. This is you brushing me off. I get it.”
He shook his head. “You don’t.” How could he make her understand that he was trying to keep a distance between them because the alternative was that he’d want more than he should from her? More than he guessed she’d be willing to give. Keeping himself closed off was a defense mechanism he’d perfected long ago.
Sleigh Bells in Crimson Page 8