Chapter Fifteen
“Quit staring at Caitlin and pass me the Cheetos, Big T,” Bethany said from the end of the table.
Taylor’s little sister squealed and ducked when he tossed the closed bag to her—well, more at her, actually. It had been an ongoing joke since his high school football days when he could tease her about there being more than one definition for pass. And as he glanced back over at Caitlin, seated to his right, he realized pass had yet another meaning at this table: hard pass, which was what both of them needed to do at this point.
It wouldn’t be good for either of them to let the heat simmering between them boil over again. There was no point in it—well, other than the obvious point his dick kept making, but he had to ignore that. She’d been hurt and the last thing she needed was a one and done, which was all he could offer. A woman like her deserved someone who could show her how special she was. Smart and funny and… Fuck. He almost groaned when she licked some mustard off her finger before taking a bite of her sandwich.
“So how do you two plan to manage the move to Boston?” his mother asked.
Caitlin froze mid-bite, sandwich hovering for a moment, before she recovered and placed it on her plate and looked over at him. She’d have been a helluva poker player, because he got nothing from her expression.
He had considered telling her, but decided it didn’t matter since it had nothing to do with her or the fake engagement. Clearly, he’d been wrong. He took a deep breath and shrugged. “We’re still discussing it.”
“Well, it’s only a few weeks away, right?” his mother pressed. “Surely you have plans.”
Caitlin flattened the napkin in her lap, expression still unreadable.
Why did he feel like such an ass? His move to Boston had nothing to do with this weekend. He glanced at her again, and her expression changed. To his surprise, she didn’t seem upset at all. In fact, a corner of her mouth quirked up in a smile—like she didn’t care that he was going away. Which made him feel like even more of an ass because he cared. And as he sat there, it struck him. He didn’t want to go. He wanted to stay here. Because of her. Sonofabitch. He was screwed. So, so screwed.
…
Caitlin flattened her napkin in her lap and fought back a smile. This was the perfect excuse to give his family when this was all over. He could tell them they ended their engagement without making it look like one of them was an awful person. She shouldn’t care how she looked, but she did. She didn’t want to play the bad guy in the story and she certainly didn’t want them to be mad at Taylor when he broke the news. This was perfect.
“Yes,” she said, “we’re still discussing it. There are lots of things to consider, like how I can’t leave my job in the city.”
The family fell quiet and still, as if someone had hit the pause button.
Rock broke the silence finally. “Seems like there’ll be a market for dog walkers in Boston, too.”
“Yes, but I’m also the company bookkeeper… Well, I will be as soon as I sit for my CPA exam in April, and pass it, of course. I have a degree in accounting, and it’s been the plan all along when my friends convinced me to come to the city and help start up Animal Attraction.”
Sandwich still in hand, Taylor stared at her. Damn. Her stomach tightened. She should have told him that. His surprise was all over his face. He’d be a totally crappy poker player.
“You didn’t know that, Taylor?” his dad asked.
Caitlin held her breath, hating that she’d thrown him under the bus. But hey, the Boston bombshell was a crap move, too. They were even now.
“Yeah. I knew she was taking the exam, I just didn’t know it was in April,” he said, bluffing beautifully with another big bite of sandwich.
“Needless to say, we have a lot to work out,” Caitlin added. “I really can’t leave Animal Attraction.”
“So, can’t you stay in Manhattan, Taylor?” Bethany asked.
“No,” Caitlin answered before Taylor could respond, making sure the groundwork for the broken engagement was solid. “I would never ask that of him.”
“But—”
“True love will always find a way,” Grams said, cutting Bethany off. “Leave it be, Bethy, and hand me those Cheetos.”
The rest of lunch and the subsequent game of Crazy Eights passed in an uneventful blur, due in part to Caitlin’s distracted mind. Taylor was moving away. It shouldn’t matter, since this whole thing was pretend and they weren’t really dating. And it didn’t matter. Nope.
He wasn’t her type anyway, she told herself as she slid into her coat. Players weren’t her thing. He had his text friends, Deborah and Felicia, so he’d be fine…and so would she. This was nothing but a bargain she’d struck to make an old woman happy. Caitlin should be thrilled. She was thrilled. It had all worked out perfectly. No chance for attachment or awkward goodbyes when they parted ways tomorrow. No strings. No anything. This was a best-case scenario all around. At least, that’s what she’d keep telling herself until she believed it.
The crisp air stung her lungs when they stepped out of the main cabin. Beau barked and bounded down the path ahead of them, his enthusiasm in complete opposition to Caitlin’s mood, and evidently Taylor’s as well. He’d been quiet for the rest of lunch, only contributing to the conversation when addressed directly. As they climbed the steps to the porch of their cabin, she wondered if his thoughts were as conflicted as hers, vacillating between disappointment and desire—relief and regret.
Taylor closed the door behind them and leaned back against it. This was the first time they’d been alone since the steamy make-out session in the snow. As she slipped off her coat, Caitlin replayed the whole thing in her mind, only imagining it in what she wore now, instead of the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man garb. Nope. Not going there. Limits.
What limits? She gritted her teeth. Oh, the freaking limits that were thrown away out in the snow when she’d almost had an orgasm completely clothed. No. More than completely clothed. Bundled up like a bubble-wrapped piece of glass. Only she wasn’t glass. She wouldn’t break.
She sighed and hung her coat on the rack by the dresser. That wasn’t entirely true. She had been broken, and she was still gluing the pieces back together, obviously, or she wouldn’t be having this ridiculous debate with herself. She’d be exploring the glorious wonderland that was Taylor Blankenship’s body.
Still leaning against the door, he studied her hard, as if cramming for an exam. “I’d give almost anything to know what’s going on in that head of yours,” he said.
I’m losing a heated debate with myself. Or maybe she was winning, depending on which side of the jump-him or not-jump-him argument she was on. “Not much.” She sat in the chair rather than the bed because, well, reasons.
He crossed his arms over his chest. “CPA, huh?”
“Yep. Boston?”
“The Andersons are opening a branch office.” He gave a shrug. “Sorry about that surprise. I didn’t think it mattered with respect to this weekend, which was stupid because of course it mattered from my family’s perspective.”
And hers, too, which bothered her more than it should have. “It gives us the perfect reason to break off the engagement,” she said. “Irreconcilable differences. You can’t stay, and I can’t leave. Clean and easy.”
“Not that easy. My grandmother is right. We would have found a way to work through it,” he said.
“If there were a we.”
“True.” He pushed away from the door and sat to face her on the foot of the bed. Beau jumped up next to him and then draped over his lap as if he were a dog a tenth of his size.
She leaned back in the chair. “And I’m not so sure we could have worked it out. I wouldn’t leave the city. Jane, Fiona, and I have plotted and planned Animal Attraction since we were little girls. I’d never give it up.”
He patted Beau’s wide head. “Good thing we don’t really have to find a solution, then.”
“Yeah. What happens next?” she asked.
His dark eyes met hers and an eyebrow arched. “You tell me.”
Oh, shit, he took that all wrong. Not that she could blame him after her “kiss me” stunt from earlier. “I mean, when do we join your family for another episode of ‘The Happy Couple?’”
For a brief flash, she could have sworn she saw disappointment in his expression before he spoke. “I need to go help Dad and Rock with the fire in a little bit, but hot dogs and marshmallows don’t happen until dark.”
Which meant she was alone in this tiny, warm, painfully romantic cabin with this big hunk of a man who could kiss like the devil himself. Hopefully not for long enough to really make a mess of things.
“Why don’t you date?” he asked.
Her voice came out sharper than intended. “What makes you think I don’t?”
He answered with a calmness she envied. “Your friend, Jane.”
Some friend. There was only one answer to his question. It was long and contained major TMI, so she answered with a shrug.
“Still recovering from your divorce?”
Okay. Clearly she and Jane needed to sit down and draw some lines as to what was appropriate to share. But the truth was, Taylor had nailed it. Her reticence to date was absolutely because of Gary. She didn’t trust men, and primarily, she didn’t trust herself. She’d been so completely wrong about her ex. What would keep her from making the same mistake? Teetotaling, that’s what. No men.
“I’ve got too much going on with work and school. Just not interested in dating,” she lied, reminding herself there was no way he’d buy that after she’d demanded he kiss her out in the snow. But that wasn’t dating. It was kissing. And damn fine kissing, too. Warmth traveled the length of her from her head to toes, lingering places between as she recalled his talented lips and demanding hands on her. She shook her head. The kiss was an unfortunate—or fortunate mistake. An aberration she wouldn’t repeat. “Look, I know I’m the one who started it, but I’d rather we act like what happened earlier didn’t happen.”
“What? The snowball fight?” He grinned. “Oh, I know. Eating way too many waffles.”
She rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean.” She fiddled with a loose thread on the arm of the chair. “The kiss.” More like kisses. Lots and lots of them. “That was totally my fault. I’m sorry.”
“I’m not sorry.” He lay back on the bed, feet on the floor and Beau’s head on his thigh. His long, muscular thigh. He closed his eyes. “Not even a little bit sorry.”
And neither was she. He’d given her plenty of daydream material. Sigh and grin-worthy material she’d no doubt replay over and over for a long time to come.
After a moment, his breathing slowed and became regular, and she found herself breathing in time with him, mesmerized by the rise and fall of his chest as he drifted off to sleep. She shifted in the chair. No wonder he’d fallen asleep; he’d been stuck in this contraption last night. The chair was wicked uncomfortable. He probably didn’t sleep well, if at all.
Beau started up snoring in a deep, buzzing tone that made her eyelids heavy. Yeah, a nap would be good. No, strike that. A nap would be great. It had been a long day, and there was still a lot left. She curled her legs up in the chair, trying to get comfortable—“trying” being the operative word. After ten minutes of wasted effort, she gave in and gingerly climbed on the bed near the headboard, as far away from Taylor as possible, relieved when neither of the boys awakened.
Caitlin’s dream was amazing. No layers of clothes to battle. No trash bag.
“Mmmm.” She placed her palm over Taylor’s sternum and made another yummy sound as she snuggled closer. Yeah, this was good. Her dream even had smell-o-vision. She breathed in Taylor’s clean, evergreen and mint scent and wrapped a leg over his, tracing her hand down the buttons of his shirt, loving the hard muscles flexing under the fabric. But the dream didn’t go the way she’d expected. He didn’t melt into her and touch her back. In fact, his big body froze and his breathing stopped.
She was having none of that. She might have a hands-off policy in real life, but dreams were exempt, dammit. She ran her hand over the button of his fly and rested it over the bulge under the zipper. Yeah. Dream Taylor was was totally on board with this dream action.
“Mmmm,” she said again, willing things to go in the right direction.
Knock, knock, knock.
She growled, irritated to be pulled out of the fantasy right before it got good.
Reluctantly, she opened her eyes and gasped to find herself face-to-face with Taylor. She’d evidently wiggled down to the end of the bed where he’d fallen asleep. And… Oh, God, she had her hand on top of his very impressive, very real erection.
Someone knocked the door again and she pulled her hand away, sitting up like she’d been electrocuted.
“We’re ready to build the fire,” Taylor’s dad called through the door.
“I’ll be right there,” Taylor answered, not moving.
By the time his father’s footsteps on the porch faded away, she could finally breathe. “Wow. Well, this is awkward,” she said, smoothing her hair and tightening her ponytail. When he didn’t answer, she dared a look down at his face to find him smiling at her.
He put one arm behind his head and draped the other over Beau, who had stretched out on the bed on the other side of him. “Do you sleep grope often?”
She covered her flaming hot face with her hands and groaned. Eyes squeezed shut, she felt the bed move as he stood.
“No complaints from me,” he said. “As far as interesting habits go, it’s a pretty good one.”
Unable to meet his gaze, she kept her face covered. Sleep groping. God.
When she finally looked up, she found him sliding into his coat. “I won’t be gone long. The wood’s already cut, we’re only piling it up and lighting it. You’re welcome to come.”
Yeah. That wasn’t happening. She needed time to let all the blood in her face return to circulation. “Ah, no. Thanks, though. Beau and I will hold down the fort.” Beau answered by making an oof sound as he rolled on his back.
Hand on the doorknob, he paused. His dark eyes studied her as if looking for something.
“What?” She regretted asking it the minute the word came out. His answer could be anything.
“Your words and actions aren’t jibing at all, which wouldn’t be a big deal to me if it were intentional or a game.” Taylor opened the door and some snowflakes drifted in, melting immediately on the wood floor. “Not a criticism. Just an observation.”
What was she supposed to say to that? Thank you very much, Dr. Freud? Fortunately, she didn’t have to say anything at all, because he stepped out and closed the door behind him.
She stared at the door for long moments, playing his words through her head, absently rubbing Beau’s belly. “Well, Beau, your words and actions jibe.” Yeah, because he didn’t say no belly rubs before rolling onto his back for belly rubs like she did.
Shit.
She knew the hands-off policy was wise. It had been a logical, responsible decision.
Beau made a happy grunting sound and rolled to his side and stretched. Taylor was right, though; her words didn’t fit with her actions. Threading her fingers though Beau’s dense hair, she heaved a sigh.
Even in her sleep, her body went rogue. And it wasn’t just her body. Her emotions fought her logic as well.
Maybe it wasn’t logic. Maybe it was fear.
“Fear of what?” she asked Beau, who answered with a yawn. She couldn’t possibly be afraid of losing her heart again. She’d only known the guy for a couple of days. And it wasn’t a fear of commitment. He was leaving.
It’s like you’re punishing yourself for making a mistake. Jane’s words echoed through her head and she covered her ears to block them out like she used to do when she was a little girl and someone told her something she didn’t like. Dropping her hands, she stared at the closed door. Jane was right. She had sworn off dating, not so much to protect herself, but as some sort of self-imposed punishment. She was afraid of having fun because somewhere deep down, she’d bought into Gary’s crap about being unworthy.
The “look, don’t touch” self-denial wasn’t to keep her from breaking something, like when she’d been that little girl in the store, it was to keep her from enjoying something. From enjoying anything.
“Close your eyes, take a breath, and trust him. Have some fun,” Grams had told Caitlin before she slid down the hill. Maybe it was time to take that advice. Let go of silly limits she didn’t want to follow and have some no-strings-attached, just-for-the-hell-of-it fun. Maybe this time, she could look and touch.