Fucking disaster, he thought, stomping across the floor to throw open the door.
“Eli!” Jacob cried, his black curls airborne as he jumped into the house. “We brought movies and popcorn and Ruby packed some dinner for you. She said you were starving to death. I said I was too, so she packed more of those brownies. Awesome, huh?”
Jacob destroyed the silence of his house. Smashed the stillness. Eli watched him ping-pong from room to room, in and out of doors, off tables and chairs that had been there so long Eli never even noticed them.
“Have you seen Monsters Vs. Aliens? It’s a little lame, but there’s this funny part with a huge robot. And a giant moth shoots stuff out its nose. That’s cool. Is that a branding iron? Why is it on your wall?”
His house was transformed by the boy. The dark corners he hadn’t been able to sand or renovate out, the sadness that lingered like stains on the linoleum, were lifted away.
Not even as a kid did he think of his house as a place where people were happy. But this kid walked around like it was Disneyland.
“Ruby packed enough food for an army,” Tori said, setting two big bags down beside her. “Can I … can I put it away?”
Appreciation that she would ask, that she was aware of the growing pains currently crackling and aching through his chest, allowed him to nod, and she stepped into his kitchen.
As if she belonged there, she opened the refrigerator door and started putting away food. The white light hit her face, not doing her any favors, but it didn’t matter.
He wasn’t any different than his house. Alone and lonely, out of habit, a choice made long ago. He never thought of happiness anymore.
Until her.
“I’m glad …” Man, it was hard to get it out. The words weren’t more than a whisper. A rasp squeezed past an emotion he didn’t comprehend. He couldn’t grasp the size and shape, the strange parameters, of this boulder on his chest.
“I’m sorry, Eli. Jacob, can you keep it down for one second?” She grinned at Eli. “He’s excited. I’m sorry, what did you say?”
The words alone were lame. So he stepped across his floor, high-fiving Jacob, because the boy never seemed to get enough of that kind of stuff, and stood in front of Tori.
She looked a little panicked that he might kiss her right there in front of her son, and that was what he’d planned on doing, but her palpable worry quashed his plans.
“I’m glad you’re here,” he said, in a voice that was surprisingly strong.
“Stop it,” Eli muttered, giving Patience a shove with his elbow. She was gumming his hair, pulling it while he ran the ultrasound wand over her belly.
If the indignant nature of her snort was anything to go by, Patience wasn’t fond of the cold jelly on her stomach, so, giving in to the inevitable, he let his horse chew on his hair.
Come on, he thought, using his shoulder to press the earphone closer to his ear. Come on, comeoncomeoncomeoncomeon.
And there it was: the faint echo of another heartbeat.
Pregnant.
He rested his forehead right over the sound of that heartbeat and thought about crying. Just a little.
“Hey, little guy,” he whispered.
“Eli?”
Shit.
He leaned back out of the stall to look down the long center aisle, surprised to see Celeste walking through his barn in a pair of tight jeans tucked into high brown boots.
She made his barn look like one of those fashion shows. Lord, she was a beautiful woman. Scary, too.
Quickly, he pushed off the earphones, gave Patience a pat on the rump, and smoothed back his hair. Couldn’t meet Celeste with horse spit in his hair.
“Hey, Celeste, if you’re looking for Victoria, she took Jacob to school.”
Her smile was cool and classy, like the expression of one of those women in the black-and-white movies. He could actually feel the dirt on his boots.
“I’m actually not looking for Victoria. I’m looking for you.”
“Me?” He grabbed the bandana out of his pocket and wiped the lubricating jelly he’d used on Patience off his hands. “What can I do for you?”
“I’ve got a car full of cats.”
“Cats?”
She held up her hands covered in bandages. “Barn cats, vicious little beasts. We’re starting work on the barn and those damn cats need a home. They’re yours if you want them.”
He’d never seen Celeste like this. Rattled, a little dirty. It was charming. Humanizing.
“I’ll take the cats,” he said.
“Good, it was that or the river.”
He smiled at her bullshit—at least he hoped it was bullshit—and followed her back out to her car.
“You finally convinced Victoria to renovate the barn?”
“Her problem is the money, and I can get the money.”
“You’ve talked to your son?”
“Not yet, but I will.”
She opened the back door of her car and the three barn cats jumped under the front seats.
Celeste growled and lunged toward them as if she were going to pull them out by their tails. He put a hand to her arm and stepped in.
He whistled and clucked his tongue, and all but CJ, the big tabby, leapt out of the car to curl around his boots.
“CJ, sweetie, come on out.”
“You’re like the cat whisperer or something,” Celeste muttered.
“I’ve been pouring their kibble most of their lives.”
“You really are a cowboy, aren’t you?”
That had to be one of those rhetorical questions, so he didn’t answer. It took a few more minutes of sweet talk, but CJ finally crept out from under the driver’s seat.
“I’m going to have to give my car a flea bath, aren’t I?”
Eli chuckled. “The cats are clean,” he said, leaning down to scratch CJ under the flea collar he was fairly religious about. He spent so much time in barns, it was in his best interest to keep the animals free of fleas.
“Well, that’s some good news.” Celeste smiled. “We haven’t seen you around the ranch lately,” she said, digging her keys out of her pocket.
“Not much reason, I suppose.”
“Now that Victoria is here?”
The November wind was cool as it blew through his stable. Just as cool as the look in Celeste’s eye. He tucked the rag back in his pocket.
“What are you asking me, Celeste?”
“A few months ago you were trying to ruin her. And now you’ve got her sleeping in your home.”
He felt the heat seep up over his throat, but it was anger, not embarrassment. “You think I’m planning to hurt her?”
“I don’t know what you’re planning.”
“She’s an adult, Celeste, and I don’t think this is your business.”
“Yes.” She bristled, all five feet nine inches of imperial model. She was formidable; he wasn’t going to lie. “It is, because I care about her and the woman has zero sense of self-preservation, and I just want to make sure she’s not going to get hurt again. That man over the summer—”
“You’re not comparing me to that Dennis guy?” he asked, stunned that anyone would lump him in the same boat as that sleaze-bag con artist.
“No. But you could hurt her, just the same.”
“I’m not … I don’t want to hurt her.” He didn’t know what else to say past that—it was as if he stood at the edge of a big fog and his flashlight was out of batteries.
Celeste nodded as if that answer was agreeable.
“Victoria said she invited you to Thanksgiving, but you said no.”
“I spend the holiday with my father.”
“Are you sure it’s not because your mother will be there?”
He wished he had his hat on so he could pull it down to that low spot right over his eyes and he wouldn’t have to look at her. “Look, I’m pretty busy, Celeste, so if there’s nothing else—”
Celeste’s forehead wrinkled as she s
tudied him, as if he were a calculus problem she just couldn’t figure out.
“I’m sorry,” she finally said, running a hand over her forehead, erasing those wrinkles as if they had never existed. Neat trick. “I shouldn’t have brought her up.”
Damn right.
“Well, thanks for taking the cats.”
“No problem.”
Celeste turned to go and he stopped her, putting a hand on her arm, and she turned back to him with her eyebrows raised.
“How … how much is the barn renovation costing you?”
“Why?”
It wasn’t easy, reaching out in this way, putting himself in all kinds of weird emotional and business danger. It wasn’t the way he liked to live, but the way he liked to live was lonely. And he was tired of that.
“I’d like to invest.”
“In the spa?” Celeste lifted her sunglasses off her eyes. He nodded.
“The barn renovation is a hundred thousand dollars.”
That was a little less than what he had in the bank left over from the sale of the Angus herd.
“You believe in the spa?”
“I believe in Victoria.”
Celeste melted, all that cold ice she surrounded herself with just vanished, and he was struck dumb by how freaking otherworldly beautiful she was, and by how real she seemed at this moment. Every other time he saw her, it felt like he’d be able to put his hand right through her if he worked up the balls to touch her.
Not so right now. She was flesh and bone, and honest to God, she looked like she could use a hug.
“She’s a lucky woman,” Celeste said.
“I’m the lucky one.”
Victoria came running through the house to set two bottles of champagne on the counter. Jacob followed, carrying his book bag and the papier-mâché moon Eli had helped him make.
“What’s going on? I swear to God I broke every speed limit on my way back here,” she panted. Honestly, she needed to get a gym membership or something. The sprint from her car had her winded.
Ruby grabbed the champagne and wrestled the cork out, until it popped. Her nut-brown face was shiny, her eyes red-rimmed as if she’d been crying. But her smile indicated that they had been happy tears.
“Someone tell me what the hell is going on here, before I have a heart attack,” Victoria said, staring straight into Celeste’s smug and smiling face.
“Let the woman pour, Victoria.”
“I swear, Celeste, I will—”
“Can I have some champagne?” Jacob asked, climbing up onto one of the stools.
“No,” Victoria said, just as Celeste said, “Yes.”
“Trust me, Victoria, this is a truly special occasion.”
Ruby poured bubbly up to the brim in four glasses and then filled a fifth only halfway.
“Who is the other glass for?” Victoria asked as Ruby handed all the crystal out.
“Me,” Eli said, coming through the back door. “I think. Sorry I’m late.”
Her mouth went dry at the sight of him. Three days she’d been living in that man’s house. Three amazing days. Two very, very long nights of staring up at the ceiling in his guest room, wondering why the hell it mattered if Jacob knew she was having a relationship with Eli or not.
Maybe Jacob wouldn’t even figure it out.
But then she thought of trying to have that conversation with her son, about how she and Eli weren’t real. Weren’t going to turn into a family. How did she explain that she was just having fun to a seven-year-old who looked at Eli like he was part cowboy, part Superman, and all hero?
Eli winked at her, sending her heart into ecstatic prepubescent sighs, and then glanced down at Jacob, who was holding his champagne glass like it was gold. “Whoa, we’re breaking out the good stuff!”
“Will someone please tell me what’s going on?” she demanded.
There was a moment of hushed silence before Ruby exploded. “Me first! Madelyn Cornish is coming to our opening-night party! And I’ve booked the segment on her show for March, but the segment isn’t going to be about the ranch. It’s going to be about me!”
“Ruby—” Celeste groaned.
“The producer said ‘kitchen.’ I am the kitchen.”
Celeste shrugged in concession.
“That’s amazing!” Victoria cried, wrapping her arms around Ruby’s neck. “Great job, Ruby—”
“That’s not all,” Celeste said in a little singsong voice. “We sold out for opening weekend. All eight rooms! We have twenty guests.”
“What?” Victoria couldn’t feel her feet. She clutched the edge of the counter for support.
“And there’s a waiting list.”
She blinked, as Ruby nodded in rapid agreement.
“Those ads!” Victoria cried. “Those ads in the New York Times worked.” The photography, the prime space. The website. It had been worth it.
“And then some,” Ruby agreed.
“We need to renovate the barn,” Celeste said, and Victoria put her glass down on the counter, all of her joy colliding with the ceiling and going splat.
“You already talked to Luc?”
Celeste shook her head. “We have an independent investor.”
“Who?” Victoria asked.
Eli raised his hand. “Me.”
Victoria was never the smartest kid in the class, but looking at Eli and Celeste, she started to connect the dots. And when they all came together, she glared at Celeste.
“Don’t be pissy, Victoria.” Celeste pointed her champagne glass at her. “But when we got this big reservation, I knew we needed to get to work on that barn.”
“I’m not pissy, I’m angry that you talked to Eli.” Champagne sloshed over her hand when she put the glass down. “Without talking to me first.”
“I approached Celeste,” Eli said.
“Why didn’t you approach me?” Victoria asked.
“It was sort of spur-of-the-moment.” He shrugged as if it were no big deal, and Victoria had to breathe through the anger.
“Why are you so mad?” Ruby asked.
Because he’s my lover! she wanted to scream. Because things are confusing enough. Because I like him and he likes me and there has to be some separation in my life.
“Can you give us a second?” Eli asked.
“Can I take this with me?” Jacob whispered, holding on to his champagne glass. Celeste nodded and shuffled him out the door, followed by Ruby.
“What’s got you so upset?” Eli touched the tips of her hair where they fell against her ratty polo shirt. She was wearing more of Ruby’s castoffs. Honestly, if her friends from New York could see her now!
“You don’t believe in this project.” It wasn’t why she was upset, but that hardly seemed to matter; she spit it at him anyway.
“I believe in you.”
“I don’t …” She took a big breath and looked him in the eye. “I don’t want to need you.”
He started slightly as if she’d poked him where it hurt, and she wanted to rush in with an apology, but she had to hold her ground somewhere. She wanted him, liked him, desired him, respected him—it had to stop there, otherwise she’d be right back to where she was with her husband. Needing a man who didn’t need her. Grateful for what he gave her, for what she could never return. “Okay. You want me to take back the money?”
She knew she couldn’t. Celeste was right. He was right. Everyone was right about that damn barn. “Why … why are you giving us this money?”
Eli took off his hat, setting it carefully on the counter next to the champagne, and rubbed his hand over his face, through his hair. “Because I have it.” His eyes were weary, so weary, and she wanted to touch him as if it were the middle of the night in his dark, dark bedroom. “All I’ve been able to offer people most of my life is shit, because that’s all I’ve had. And I want to offer you something more.”
“You’ve given me enough, Eli.”
That seemed to make him mad, his anger filling o
ut his chest, the whole room, and she stepped back.
“You mean when I tied you up? When I told you to suck my cock? That’s enough for you?”
She blushed so hard she got dizzy, tongue-tied. “Yes … I mean, no. I just … I don’t expect more.”
“Is that your way of telling me I shouldn’t expect more from you?”
The silence buzzed like a swarm of angry bees.
“What … what are you saying?” This couldn’t be happening. Couldn’t be happening. Did he … love her? Eli? Was that possible?
“Look at you, so scared. Forget it, Tori. The money is yours.”
“Eli … I’m not looking for another relationship … my husband—”
“Is dead. Dead. And that woman you were when you were married to him—she’s dead, too. And if it’s just sex between us, that’s fine. My mistake for thinking there was something more.”
For a moment her brain scrambled, everything flipping over and then back. This man led a solitary life. The only connections he allowed himself were shallow ones. Sex in his truck. No women in his house. He was a fortress, and she hadn’t even realized she’d stormed the gates.
He’d probably let her in farther than he’d let anyone in since his mother had left him. And she’d just kept hammering away at every door he put up, every lock he put on, until he’d had no choice but to open up.
“Do you … love me?”
His dry chuckle hurt like a match across her chest. “What do I know about love, Tori? Nothing. I like you. A lot. And I just wanted to share in something good. That’s all.”
“I’m sorry … I don’t know what—”
“Now you’re pissing me off.”
“I like you too, Eli. A lot.” She smiled up at him until finally he smiled back at her, his hand curving around her waist.
“Then say thank you,” he whispered against her lips. “And take the money.”
“Why in the world couldn’t they get more comfortable chairs in this place?” Eli asked, searching for some spot on the hard-backed chair beside his father’s bed that wouldn’t make his ass go numb.
“Most people bring in their own furniture,” Caitlyn said, not looking up from the chart she was scribbling on. Her fingernails were red, with little dragons painted on them. So intricate, he wanted to get a better look, but she kept her distance. “Comfortable chairs, pictures, blankets. Homey stuff.”
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