by Sue MacKay
She twisted around and regarded the clock. ‘It’s been stored in an insulated cupboard along with Mum’s excess furniture, and she’s had it checked over every couple of years by a clockmaker.’
What did it mean that she’d brought it to him? Hadn’t taken an axe to it instead? ‘I don’t know what to say.’
‘There’s nothing to say. It always had your name on it. It’s nice that you’re still smitten. Let’s get it inside out of the weather. Though the sun has finally agreed to make an appearance it’s just as likely to change its mind when we’re not looking.’
Taking an end each, they carefully carried the clock in through the front door. ‘It’s not light,’ Hunter noted. ‘How’d you get it into your car?’ She’d dropped the back seats so it could fit through the trunk.
‘The security guy at the lock-up gave me a hand. Poppy was under threat of death if she threw up. I drove so slowly it’s a wonder I wasn’t picked up for dangerous driving.’
‘You’ve still got to get her back home.’ Hunter shifted the clock to the left, away from the sunlight filtering through the bay window, his fingers trailing down the woodwork again to make sure this wasn’t a dream.
‘I’ll work something out. She managed once, maybe I can push my luck and try again.’ Brenna was looking around the spacious sitting room. ‘Minimalist approach on the furniture, I see.’
‘Still haven’t made it to the shop.’
‘It’s early days.’ She was rolling her shoulders awkwardly.
‘You hurting?’
‘I always get a snag in my muscles from riding. It’s nothing to do with moving the clock.’
‘Bren, I don’t know how to thank you.’ The words squeezed around the emotion blocking his throat. He reached for her again, careful not to hurt her shoulders.
Again she winced. But before he could say anything, she placed a hand on his chest to stop him getting closer. ‘It’s Mum you should be thanking. Not me.’
Leaning down, he kissed her lightly, as a friend would. A friend who didn’t know if he meant more to her or not. ‘Let’s celebrate with a glass of wine. I haven’t got any champagne, sorry.’ Though exactly what he was celebrating was a mystery to him. The clock, definitely. But there was more, he just couldn’t identify the emotion. It felt familiar yet different. More than friendship, more than gratitude, less than love. Less than love? Or full-blown, heart-totally-involved love?
‘Dad, Poppy’s done wees on the step.’
Thank goodness for little boys and their intrigue with pee. ‘Fill the bucket by the tap outside the back door, will you?’
‘I’ll see to it.’ Brenna headed outside, leaving him to stare after her, wondering what he was going to do next.
This had moved everything to a different level. One he wasn’t sure he wanted to stop on. Face it, he didn’t have a clue what was going on, and judging by the wariness in her eyes he suspected Brenna wasn’t faring any better.
‘You mentioned wine,’ she said a few minutes later.
‘Did I?’ He shook his head. ‘Right.’ In the kitchen, he carefully poured two glasses, aware how shaky his hand was. ‘Follow me for the grand tour.’ He led her through the house, forced himself to laugh when she joked about the floor-to-ceiling stacks of cartons waiting to be unpacked, tried not to groan out loud when she bent over to push a train along the track on Dylan’s bedroom floor. It wasn’t the train disturbing him. Rather it was her sweet bottom with its perfect curves.
He wanted her. Now. Here against the wall. He couldn’t have her, even if she was willing. His son was out in the yard, playing with her dog. Not everything about fatherhood was perfect. She’d probably turn him down anyway. There was wariness in her eyes, and she didn’t look at him very often.
‘Come on, let’s sit on the back porch so we can keep an eye on the kids.’ Out of temptation’s way.
‘Good idea.’ She seemed fixated on walls and carpets and furniture—or the lack of it. She might find something else to take her interest outside.
‘Brenna, can Poppy stay for dinner?’ Dylan stood in front of her, hands on his hips.
He was a right little copycat of his dad, Hunter acknowledged.
‘Probably not tonight,’ Brenna answered after a brief pause.
‘We’re having pizza. I can order extra if you’d like to stay.’
‘Yes, say yes, Brenna. Then Poppy and I can play some more.’ Dylan jumped up and down, his arms in danger of connecting with Brenna.
Leaning back, she laughed. ‘I can hardly say no to that, now, can I? Yes, I’d like to stay for pizza.’
‘Whoopee,’ Dylan shouted, and ran around in circles on the lawn.
‘Where does he get his energy?’
‘Asks the woman who never seems to get tired.’ How come his son got her to laugh so easily?
‘Believe me, I’m feeling it in my legs right now. Uphill cycling takes it out of me every time. I really should get into a training routine but I’m not disciplined enough.’
Was that why she was limping a little? ‘Doesn’t sound like you.’ She’d been very strict about her spare time when studying medicine, as she’d needed to be in order to qualify.
‘That’s because it’s not the end of the world if I bomb out on a ride occasionally. I do it for fun, not to be the best.’ Her gaze wandered around his back yard. ‘You’ve got a reasonable amount of space out here. What are you going to do with it?’
‘Put in a dog run and kennel and dig a vegetable garden. That’ll take care of most of it.’ With spring supposedly on the way, though apparently delayed, the gardening would be a priority.
‘Have you talked to the breeder again?’
‘I put an order in for a male yesterday. It’s happening. I haven’t told a certain person yet, otherwise there’ll be no shutting him up until the day it comes home with us, which is weeks away.’
She was watching Dylan dragging Poppy around on a short rope. ‘He’s not afraid of Pops at all. That’s a good sign.’
‘As long as he recognises the difference between gentle dogs and aggressive ones, I agree.’ Hunter stood. ‘I’ll phone the pizza house.’
Brenna looked up. ‘This is so relaxing.’
‘Nothing like your normal Sunday afternoon, then?’
‘I don’t sit around very often. There’s usually something needing my attention.’ Finally, a smile radiated out at him, sucking him in and turning him to mush. It might’ve been better if she’d kept up the wariness.
‘Any preference for your pizza?’
‘Surprise me.’
A perfect end to a not-so-bad week.
* * *
Brenna rinsed the plates before putting them into the dishwasher, trying to ignore the dull throbbing in her arm and leg as she straightened up. ‘Shall I make coffee?’
‘Can Poppy stay the night?’ Dylan stood in front of her. ‘Please?’
‘I don’t think so. We’ve got to get up early in the morning so I can go to work.’
‘Please let her. I’ll wake her up very early.’
This kid was gorgeous, and so like his dad when he wanted something. That hands-on-hips thing was classic Ford. ‘Not tonight, I’m sorry.’
‘You can stay too.’ He didn’t give up easily.
Neither did she. ‘It won’t work, Dylan.’
‘Would it make a difference if I agreed with Dylan? You could stay for some of the night.’ That deep, raspy voice lifted the hairs on the back of her neck and sent her stomach into overdrive.
‘I could?’ Why not? It was what she’d been wanting for the last hour, after she’d finally abandoned the caution over getting too close and friendly for tonight. Then what he’d said impacted. ‘Some of the night?’ He didn’t want her here when he woke up to get ready for work? Too intimate in that it was snug and cosy and spoke of mor
e than just sex? She could work with that if it meant having off-the-scale sex with Hunter.
Trollop.
‘Dylan, take Poppy outside for a few minutes in case she wants to do wees again.’ As boy and dog disappeared, Hunter turned back to her. ‘Dylan’s still getting used to moving away from his grandparents and his friends at preschool, and making new friends and settling in. I don’t think he’s ready to deal with you being in my bed when he gets up in the morning. He’d want to know what’s going on.’
‘And since we don’t know the answer to that, we’d only confuse him further.’ Fair cop. She remembered her mixed feelings the first time she’d seen Mum coming out of Dad’s bedroom and she’d been twelve. Her heart sank. This getting to know Hunter again wasn’t straightforward, but she was up to it. When the doubts weren’t biting. Which they weren’t at the moment. ‘Some time together is better than none.’
Hunter leaned in and kissed her. Not on the brow or her hot cheeks, but smack on her lips, a full, deep kiss that had her holding onto his shirt to stay upright.
When he finally pulled away, she ran her tongue over her lips and said, ‘What time does Dylan go to bed?’
Hunter laughed. ‘After a shower and a story and a drink of water, followed by another drink and the demand for food, which doesn’t get a look in.’
Brenna hugged herself. This felt—great. Homey, but nice. Normal, if this was a family. It was. She was just sneaking in on the periphery for a few hours. ‘I’ll take Poppy for a walk round the block while you get started on the evening ritual. She can sleep on the floor beside Dylan’s bed until I go home.’
‘Hopefully Dylan gets that memo and doesn’t make her jump up on the bed with him.’
‘If he does that, I’ll never get her to leave.’
* * *
Half an hour later she stepped back inside the house, her bruised leg aching from the exercise, but her head was clearer than it had been in hours. She was going to spend time with Hunter, and it wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment thing. She’d been turned on when he’d asked her to stay, but even with time to think about it she still wanted to be with him, to make love, and to forget everything else for a while. Progress in getting to know him again? Or was this how she balanced it all, and worked out what she wanted?
Hunter sauntered into the kitchen, a grin on his face. ‘Can we borrow Poppy every night? No demands for food or games, just, Where’s Poppy? I want to go to bed.’
‘I’ll take her along to his room.’ And say goodnight to the little guy she’d begun to feel a strong affection for.
‘Brenna, can you read me a story?’
One look into those grey eyes that were a replica of his father’s, especially when filled with entreaty, and she caved. ‘Sure. Which one?’ There was a stack of books on the bedside table. One was particularly thick. That had to be avoided or there’d be no sleeping or making love going on before sun-up, by which time it’d be too late. ‘How about this one?’
‘Yes, that’s my favourite.’
Saved by a random choice. Perhaps she should try that more often with other things in her life. Settling onto the bed beside Dylan, she ignored Hunter’s laugh from the doorway.
‘You’ve been conned.’
‘“The digger’s stuck,”’ she read.
‘See?’ Dylan pointed to the picture of a big yellow digger in mud.
‘I do.’ She lifted her head and grinned. ‘See?’ she asked his dad.
‘Oh, yes. I’ll go put the kettle on. We’re going to be a while.’
‘“We have to get help pulling the digger out.”’ She continued with the story and felt a lump growing in the back of her throat as Dylan snuggled in close. This was something else. She could get to like it. A lot.
Getting ahead of yourself.
When she finished the story, Dylan was sound asleep. Slowly easing off the bed, she carefully moved the boy down the bed and pulled the covers up to his chin before dropping a kiss on his forehead. ‘Night-night, make sure the bedbugs don’t bite.’
‘Better not be any bugs in this house.’ Hunter dropped an arm over her shoulders and led her to the kitchen, where he had a steaming mug of tea waiting for her.
‘Or what? You’ll pull it down and start again?’ She laughed around the raw emotions filling her throat. ‘I think Dylan would have something to say about that. He’s gorgeous, by the way.’ How soon can we make love? ‘Does he always fall asleep instantly?’
Why make love? Why not have sex? Gulp. The tea went down the wrong way, making her cough. She had to move so that Hunter didn’t bang her on the back and aggravate the bruises that were playing up more as the night wore on.
‘Not always, but he was exhausted after playing with Poppy. Hopefully he’s out for the night.’
‘Not good at sleeping right through?’ Please stay asleep for a few hours.
Hunter picked up his tea and sipped it. ‘He’s better than he was back in Kamloops, where he woke at least twice, sometimes three times a night. Now it’s usually only once, and Saturday was a first. He didn’t stir at all.’
‘Nothing’s easy, is it?’
‘I’m hoping it will be—for a while anyway. Can you hurry up and drink your tea?’ He looked at her over the rim of his mug, his eyes lit up with need.
Glug, glug, glug. She put the mug in the dishwasher. ‘How’s that?’
‘Not bad.’ He took her hand and all but ran down the hall, only pausing to check on Dylan. ‘Good boy.’ He high-fived Brenna. ‘Must’ve been your mesmerising story-telling that knocked him out so fast.’
Hunter locked his bedroom door. ‘I don’t like doing this, but it would be worse to have him barging in and leaping up on the bed at the wrong moment.’
And seeing her in bed with his father. She turned the bedside light on. The soft shadows it threw highlighted Hunter’s height and those wide shoulders. How had she managed to get through the years since they’d broken up? Especially the last few when he’d stopped lurking in the back of her head.
Hunter grabbed her around the waist and pulled her against his chest, his flat stomach and the rest of his hard body.
Her mouth dried as it met his. Desire rose, expanded through her body, heating muscles and skin, softening her stomach, tightening her toes and thighs. ‘Hunter,’ she whispered against his mouth before driving her tongue inside. ‘Let’s make love.’
Yes, she was making love, not having sex. She was going for broke.
Then Hunter clasped her, his finger rubbing her hot spot, and she had no idea whether she was standing, lying or kneeling. Everything was exploding in her head, throughout her body, until she couldn’t take any more.
Hunter gave more. She tried to reach for him, to hold that pulsating organ pressing into her stomach, but he held her hands. ‘Let me give you my full attention.’
She let Hunter work his magic.
After her body returned to earth and she could move, she rolled over on top of him and began kissing every inch of skin. It took time. He wasn’t small. Anywhere. All the while he groaned and demanded release, and she continued with her lips, her tongue until she was as feverish as Hunter and she finally gave in and straddled him, taking him deep, clamping around him, crying out as they climaxed together.
Yes, she’d made love to Hunter. She’d given him everything of herself. What did she do next? Wait and see how this budding relationship unfolded? She’d come to see that it wasn’t the old one being cranked up. They’d both changed too much for that. But they might be building on the bones of the past. Did she want that? Was she prepared to risk being put aside again if Hunter couldn’t handle having her full time in his life along with his son, and the problems that were his parents?
‘Hey, where’ve you gone?’ Hunter wrapped his arms around and hugged tight.
Pain in her arm snagged her. Funny how it hadn’
t been a problem when she’d been having an orgasm.
‘You all right?’ The concern in his voice warned her. ‘What’s wrong?’ He sat up and put her away from him to look her over. ‘You’re covered in bruises. What have you done?’ His mouth flattened. ‘You came off your bike.’
This wasn’t the way to finish up a lovemaking session. Maybe it had been sex. No. Not for her, it hadn’t been. She did love Hunter. This one, or the man she’d once loved, she couldn’t be sure. But it was love thumping through her chest, hurting as much as those damned bruises. Love that wasn’t reciprocated or Hunter would be looking at ways to make it work too.
‘You’re black and blue. No wonder you aren’t moving comfortably.’
Reaching for her panties, she slid them up her legs, refusing to acknowledge it hurt to lift her left leg. Then she picked up her jeans and pushed her feet into them. ‘I was moving just fine a few minutes ago.’
Hardly noticed a thing except for what you were doing to me.
Now she could leave without feeling like she had been sent to purgatory because he didn’t want her here when Dylan woke up. Not that this argument had anything to do with that.
‘Did you see a doctor?’ he growled.
‘Two of the people I ride with are doctors.’ An orthopaedic surgeon and a GP. Her injuries were covered.
‘Gees, Brenna, why do you do this to yourself?’ Not long ago he’d been calling her Bren. ‘Don’t you care that you might break a collarbone or, worse, your spine?’ he roared. ‘What about the people who care about you? It doesn’t matter if you hurt them?’
‘Enough. You’ll wake Dylan if you don’t keep your voice down.’ And make her regret falling for him again. Still. Whichever, it felt the same, hurt the same.
‘Daddy?’
Too late. The young voice from the other side of the door sounded on the verge of tears.