3
VIOLET RESTED BACK in the steamy tub, her body so lax she knew she could nod off. But she wouldn’t. No, she wanted to talk to Hogan.
He’d insisted she get the bath taken care of first.
Smart thinking, given her present limited supply of energy.
She’d already scrubbed head to toe, getting that out of the way before she tired. Now she just enjoyed breathing in the dampness in the air and feeling the warmth of the water sink into her bones.
“You okay in there?”
“Go away.” She smiled, then glanced over to the closed toilet lid. Hogan had put a fresh T-shirt and another pair of panties there.
The man was making himself at home all right.
But the bath felt so good she didn’t care.
He’d also put a thick towel on the side of the tub and her fluffy housecoat on the door hook.
Why did getting clean make her feel more human?
“If you stay in there much longer,” came his deep, seductive voice, “am I going to have to carry you out?”
“You wish,” she muttered low enough that he couldn’t hear.
But he replied, his tone laced with amusement, “As a matter of fact, it’s a current fantasy. You all warm, naked and—” he paused for effect “—wet.”
Violet caught her breath, promptly coughed and grouchily wheezed, “I’ll be out in five more minutes.”
“Okay, calm down.” She could almost picture his negligent pose against the door. “Hungry?”
Violet bit her lip. She was hungry. It was hours earlier that she’d eaten the soup Colt had brought her. But Hogan had already done so much—
“I’ll take that heavy pause as a yes.”
“Hogan, no, wait.”
No answer. She heard him walking away.
Blasted perfectly flawed man. She closed her eyes, felt herself fading and decided she had to get out. His fantasy, nice as it would be, could not become her reality.
She liked him. She loved his barbecued ribs. And she enjoyed him as an employee and a friend.
Intimacy would only screw up the dynamics.
She dragged out of the bathroom, mostly dry and bundled in her clothes and housecoat, to the scent of pancakes.
How does he know all my weaknesses?
She followed her nose into the kitchen just as he dropped a pat of butter onto a stack of three fluffy pancakes.
He glanced at her, looked back to his skillet, then returned for a longer look. “It would help,” he said low, “if you looked worse.”
She almost laughed. “Ratty hair, bloodshot eyes and chapped lips appeal to you?”
“On you, yeah.” He gave his attention back to the prep of the food. “I started to ask you what you’d like, but figured you’d just give me another smart-ass answer, so I decided on pancakes.”
She pulled out a chair and slumped into it. “My comfort food. Thank you.”
Smiling now, he set the first plate of pancakes and the bottle of syrup in front of her. “Juice, milk?”
“Juice, thank you.”
Hogan gave her a piercing look. “Keep thanking me and I’ll assume you’re delirious. You might find yourself back at the hospital.”
She grinned, filled her mouth with a big bite of syrup-drenched, fluffy pancake and moaned. “So good.”
Hogan said nothing.
She looked up and found him staring at her intently. When she raised a brow, he shook his head and joined her at the table with his own plate of pancakes.
In short order, without her having to ask, he told her about the day and how busy they’d been and how smoothly everything had run.
Without her.
Feeling glum, she asked, “What about your bike?”
“Jason got it home for me.” He eyed her. “I’m taking your car again tomorrow.”
The independent woman in her rebelled. “You just assume I’ll miss work again?”
Reaching out, he fingered one long, damp curl at her temple. “Ratty-haired women with bloodshot eyes and chapped lips should give themselves time to recoup.”
Instead of debating that, Violet asked, hopefully with enough indifference, “Are you staying over again?”
Sounding supremely confident, he said, “Yes.”
It was crazy. Beyond crazy. Bordering on dangerous. But Violet was thrilled. “Okay.” Hoping to coast past that, in case she’d given herself away and shown how much she wanted him to stay, she poked his shoulder. “Now tell me about Nathan and this other woman.”
He did, in exaggerated detail.
Once he’d finished, she said, “That doesn’t sound like Nathan.” Love struck? Nathan was so alpha, so very take-charge. Sure, he performed with Drunken Monkeys, but even then he remained, in every way, the sheriff—just a more lighthearted version. “He got that macho scar while part of a SWAT team, you know.”
Hogan’s brow quirked at her “macho” comment, but it was true. Explaining to him, she said, “Nathan is as much a man as a man could be.”
Now he frowned.
“It’s a little overbearing,” she added and watched his frown fade.
As if pledging the truth, Hogan lifted a hand. “Macho or not, his tongue was on the ground, I swear. And his eyes were glazed. He’s after her all right. But she didn’t even crack a smile for him.”
“Or for you?”
Hogan grinned. “I finagled a very perfunctory handshake from her, and a clear dismissal.”
“Huh. I like her.”
“I thought you might.” He waited while she yawned, then stood to get the dishes. “You ready to turn in?”
Her heart started thumping hard enough to lay her low again. She slid from her chair, didn’t look at him and said, “After I brush my teeth. Be right back.”
She wasn’t occupied for more than five minutes, and during that time she thought mostly about Hogan, him being so darned nice, so blasted domestic and caring.
Sure enough, when she returned to the kitchen it was cleaned, everything put away. She didn’t see Hogan—then the front door opened and he stepped in with an overnight bag.
While she watched, he stepped out of his shoes and put them by the door.
“Not boots?” she asked, noticing that he wore athletic shoes tonight.
“Only when I ride my bike.” Carrying the small bag, he headed down the hall. “I’m going to grab a shower and brush my teeth, too.” He disappeared into her bathroom.
So he’d assumed she’d want him to stay again? She should just go to bed, go into her own bedroom and close the door. Maybe even lock it.
She didn’t.
She was on the couch, her feet curled up under her, when Hogan emerged. His hair was damp and he wore only shorts, nothing else, and he looked so damned good she breathed deeper and ended up coughing.
“Have you taken your meds?”
Shooting for defensive snippiness, she said, “Yes, Dad.”
Pausing, Hogan grinned. “You know, if I didn’t have a seventeen-year-old son, I might find that game kinky, especially with you being such a brat who could probably use some discipline.” He shook his head. “But with Colt around, it’d just be too weird.”
Heat rushed into her face. “I didn’t mean—”
“I take it you want to visit for a while?” He checked that the front door was locked, then joined her on the couch. “I can manage to stay awake another hour if you can.”
Violet stared at him, at his tanned chest with the inviting warmth, the crisp curling hair, and she fought herself.
Either he read her expression, or he was just that good at knowing women, because he asked softly, “Would you rather just cuddle a bit?”
She took a slow, shallow breath and admitted, “Maybe.” She felt like hell. Cuddling sounded even better than the bath and the pancakes.
He didn’t tease her. In a voice pitched low and soft, he asked, “You want to stay here on the couch, or would you rather get in the bed? I promise to behave either way.”
But could she behave? Even sitting a few feet away, a sizzle of awareness played over her skin. She looked at the couch cushions. The blasted couch was so short...
Without waiting for an answer, Hogan stood. “Tell you what—why don’t I decide?” He scooped an arm under her legs and easily lifted her. “That way, you don’t have to debate yourself so long.”
Giving in, she rested her head against his shoulder. “I might blame you for this later.”
“I’m a big boy,” he said on his way down the hall. “I can take it.”
Oh, she imagined he could take all kinds of things. More and more, she was the weak link, the one unable to stay strong.
In the bedroom, he shoved the door shut with his heel and carried her toward the bed. At first, he just held her. Violet knew he was looking down at her, but she was too cowardly to meet his gaze.
Not this close. Not with his mouth right there and a bed behind her.
It was tempting enough, this easy display of his strength, the warmth of his body and how good he smelled, like soap and sunshine and man.
Letting her ease down the length of his body, he put her on her feet. Casually, as if he’d done so a dozen times already, Hogan untied the belt to her housecoat and, without haste, pulled it off her shoulders.
Keeping her gaze on his bare chest, Violet stood there in another T-shirt, this one oversize so it covered her better, but she knew he could still see her black panties.
Panties that he’d picked out for her.
Putting a finger under her chin, he lifted her face. “You’re okay?”
Breathing became more difficult, and not just because of her illness. “You must think I’m a terrible tease.”
A slow rascal’s smile only made him more appealing. “Definitely a tease. But I understand not wanting to be alone when you feel bad.” He kissed her forehead. “And I’m glad I’m here.”
It didn’t feel like a come-on, like an effort to soften her up so she’d finally give in.
She knew that Hogan had been hurting for a long time. He’d lost his wife, his job, and uprooted his life. For a while there, he’d been about as miserable as any human could be while still functioning and pretending nothing was wrong.
She admired his strength, the way he’d pushed forward instead of giving in to grief. Had he loved his wife a lot? It seemed likely, given they’d been together so long.
Yet she remembered his comment about cheating, lying women. Had he meant one of the random one-nighters he’d indulged? She didn’t think so. None of those ladies had warranted even a second date, as far as she knew.
Testing the waters, she said, “It’s easy to see why you’re successful with women.” His wife, that murky lady who might have hardened him, had to have been a complete fool.
Hogan shook his head. “Come on. Into bed.” He straightened the messed covers and got her settled, then scooted in next to her, covering them only with the sheet.
Until now, she’d been so cold.
But lying next to Hogan warmed her up from the inside out—and he wasn’t even touching her yet.
He stretched out a long arm to turn off the bedside lamp.
She was wondering how this would work, what she should do, when the bed dipped as he adjusted, and he very naturally drew her into his side.
“Comfortable?”
Oh yes. She cleared her throat, but managed only, “Mmm-hmm.” God, he was hot. The entire front of her was snuggled close to the side of him, one strong arm under and around her, keeping her close. She wanted to lift her leg over him, but held herself still instead.
“You don’t sound comfortable.”
“I’ve never slept with a guy before unless... Well, I never have, not without sex first.”
“It’s a unique experience, that’s for sure.”
But he’d been married. Surely he and his wife hadn’t had sex every night. Then again, if she was married to Hogan... Whoa. No. She put the brakes on those thoughts real quick.
“I don’t know when you even have time to date,” he said, and he sounded tentative, like maybe he was asking for more than the obvious.
“I don’t.”
His arm tightened around her. “So why the condoms in your purse?”
Violet reared up over him. She couldn’t see him in the dark, but she stared toward his voice. “How do you know—”
“I got your keys from your purse.”
“And you snooped!”
“Nope.” His hands closed around her waist. “They were right there, front and center.”
She felt like an idiot. Of course they were—she’d carelessly tossed them there a few days ago, worried that she might give in to him and wanting to be prepared just in case.
She wouldn’t tell him that, so instead she told a half-truth. “They’re just a precaution.”
“Yeah?” He pulled her down to rest against his chest. She felt his hand sift through her hair until he’d freed it from the band. He smoothed it down her back, saying, “In case Nathan got interested? Or a customer?” Bitterness sounded when he added, “You know Jason is married now, so he wouldn’t—”
Slowly balling up her fist, Violet drew back and punched him in the ribs. She was too close to him and feeling too weak to make it very forceful.
In fact, he laughed, caught her wrist and held it against his chest. “Legit question, Violet.”
“No, I’m not interested in Nathan that way. I told you he’s too macho. And I don’t do random—unlike some people I know.”
He laughed again, a sarcastic sound. “And my brother?”
If she could go back in time, she’d erase the very brief relationship she and Jason had indulged. But she couldn’t, and obviously Hogan knew about it.
It was before Hogan had ever moved to the area, and it hadn’t lasted long enough for anyone to remember. But in a small town, everyone was in everyone else’s business.
Knowing this was a serious subject, a touchy subject, knowing that even though she and Hogan hadn’t hooked up it mattered a lot to him, she searched for the right words to explain.
“I shouldn’t have asked.”
Hogan did that often, letting her off the hook. But not this time. “Jason and I are friends, nothing more.”
“Friends with a history.”
“Not that it matters—not to him and not to me. Honor is good for him, and vice versa. I’m happy for them both.”
With one hand he continued to hold her one wrist while with the other he stroked her back. “You slept with him.”
Violet winced. “Just that once.” Her heart thundered so hard, she didn’t know if that’s what hurt her chest, or if it was the pneumonia. “It was stupid, for both of us, and it never meant anything. For a while there I was afraid it would ruin our friendship, maybe make things awkward. But Jason was no more interested in a repeat performance than I was.”
The seconds ticked by, then Hogan teased, “Should I be insulted on my brother’s behalf?”
Knowing he believed her, Violet relaxed. “No. The chemistry just wasn’t there.” Not like the chemistry I have with you. Because it was uppermost in her mind, and here, now, in the dark discussing such intimate things, seemed like a good time to bring it up, she asked, “What about you? Am I likely to run into one of your...” She didn’t want to insult other women, so she settled on, “Flings?”
“No idea. Would you mind?”
If he’d let her go, she’d punch him again. He seemed to know it and held her snug even as she felt the laughter rumbling in his chest beneath her cheek. “Jerk.”
“I’ve never claimed otherwise.”
He didn’t have to. Anyone who knew him saw right away that he was, overall, a really terrific guy. Definitely a great dad. A good brother, a friendly neighbor.
Gorgeous, and sexy and—
“If you need anything during the night, let me know, okay?”
What if she needed him? No, bad thought. Bad, bad thought.
The quiet settled around them.
When she squirmed, getting more comfortable against him, he whispered, “For the record, I’m not proud of my temporary stint as a hound dog.”
Heat, scented by his body, wafted around her, making her warm and sleepy. “No?”
His fingertips trailed up and down her bare arm. “It was stupid and immature.”
“I didn’t realize.”
He squeezed her. “Are you laughing at me?”
“No.” She surprised herself when she kissed his chest. Just a quick kiss, but still... “Do you know why you became a hound dog?”
“Yeah, I do. Now go to sleep.”
“Okay.” She was too lethargic to argue with him.
Even as she drifted off, she stayed very aware of Hogan against her—and she knew he was still awake.
* * *
The knock on the door woke Hogan and he opened his eyes before realizing that Violet sprawled half over him. He lifted his head, awareness hitting him hard.
Her slender thigh draped his lap, a warm, soft weight against his morning erection. Her hair spilled over his chest and shoulder, her hand in a loose fist over his right nipple.
The knock came again.
Well, hell.
He didn’t want to move, definitely didn’t want to disturb her, but he glanced at the clock and saw it was after nine. He came up to an elbow, and she awakened.
He watched her dark brown lashes flicker before her eyes slowly opened. She looked at his chest, down his body—then shot her gaze to his face.
“Good morning.” Jesus, she was beautiful in the morning. He opened his hands on her back and resisted the urge to fondle her bottom.
Her eyes flared.
She hadn’t yet caught on, obviously. “Someone’s at your door.”
As if she expected to see someone standing outside the bedroom, she scrambled up and pulled the sheet to her chin.
Hogan laughed. “The front door.” Ready to be gallant, he stood.
Her interest went directly to his lap and stayed there.
“Keep that up,” he warned her, while pulling on his shorts, “and it’ll be an R-rated greeting I give to your visitor.” Already he had more than usual morning wood, but then, given how he’d awakened, it made sense.
When she stayed silent, he sighed. “Clearly, you’re not a morning person. Stay put and I’ll do the honors.”
Hoping it wasn’t a boyfriend of some sort coming to call on her, Hogan opened the door.
Honor and Jason stood there.
“You didn’t hear the door?” Jason asked, looking past him at the couch—where clearly no one had slept. His expression changed. “Damn, sorry. Maybe we can just—”
“Come in.” Brain scrambling, Hogan stepped back to allow them entrance. What might have happened if his brother and sister-in-law hadn’t intruded?
Nothing, you ass. The woman is sick. Still, conversations from the night before flooded back on him. He wanted to dissect everything that had been said, the assurances she’d given him, the subtle ways she’d started to soften toward him.
Instead he had to entertain.
“I thought you’d be up.” Jason barely kept his humor in check. “I know it was a late night, but you’ll be opening the diner today, right?”
“Yes.” He didn’t bother explaining that he’d still been in bed, Violet half atop him, their legs entwined. He could still feel the softness of her, the cushion of her breasts against his chest, her silky hair tangled over him—
Honor looked around, then whispered, “Violet is still sleeping?”
Get it together. “Yes, she’s—”
“Right here,” Violet mumbled, coming down the hall in her thick housecoat, the comforter once again dragging in her wake. She glanced at Hogan, then away, in her sluggish beeline for the couch.
Honor immediately went after her. “You’re still so sick. I’m sorry.”
“She’s a little better,” Hogan said. “But she’s lousy in the mornings.”
Jason said, “Antibiotics are an amazing thing.”
“I don’t know,” Honor mused. “Could be your brother’s good nursing skills that are doing the trick.”
“Maybe.” Arching a brow, Jason grinned at Hogan. “Colt’s on his way.” He nodded at Hogan’s lap. “You, ah, might want to get on some pants. Denim maybe. Something sturdy.”
“Shut the hell up.” But he went down the hall, taking deep breaths with each step, and found his pants. Behave, he told his dick. Now, with the house full, it should be easier to do.
On his way to the bathroom, he heard Violet say, “You guys, this isn’t—”
“Any of our business,” Honor happily finished for her.
Hogan could almost see Honor smiling. Such a caring person, and not a snide bone in her body.
He wondered if she woke up grouchy. Didn’t seem likely; Honor was always a sweetheart.
In rapid order, Hogan dressed, brushed his teeth and finger-combed his hair. He would have liked to shave, but he’d just made it back to the small living room when Colt arrived.
For his son, nothing seemed amiss.
Jason had coffee going and Honor pulled a bag of homemade chocolate chip cookies from her tote.
They gathered in the kitchen. Hogan saw to it that Violet took her medicine, and to everyone else’s amusement, she let him. It didn’t occur to him that it might seem uncommon for him to feel her head for fever, or to suggest ibuprofen. At least, it didn’t until he realized they were all gawking.
Honor quickly said, “The cookies aren’t really homemade. All I do is bake them, but Colt likes them.”
“I do,” Colt agreed, putting three on his plate and then serving Violet.
She smiled at Colt, thanked him and said, “I’m not dying, people. I don’t have to be coddled.”
Except that she’d wanted to be coddled last night—by him.
“I can help again today,” Colt offered. “I’m cutting grass this morning, but then I’m free.”
“You don’t mind? You don’t have a date or something else you’d rather be doing?”
“The date was last night—sort of. She hung out at the diner with some of our friends. I got to visit on breaks, and I’ll see her Monday at school. You’ll be well soon, so it’s not a problem.” He grinned. “You’ve slipped me enough free refills and always give me double orders of fries. I’m glad to pay it back a little.”
That was news to Hogan. So Violet had been pampering his son? Nice.
Violet turned to Hogan. “You can fill out a time card for him?”
Hogan and Colt protested at the same time.
She held up a hand. “For once, you two look alike.” She frowned at Colt. “You are the nicest young man ever, but you can’t work for free. I wouldn’t want you to, and I won’t let you. And you,” she said to Hogan, “shouldn’t let him.”
Jason laughed. “Well, he is saving up for college, so...be gracious, Colt, and thank the lady.”
“Thank you.”
As the cookies and coffee were consumed, Hogan stewed. Yes, his son was saving for college—because his college fund had been robbed, wasted. And he, Hogan, had been blind to it, never once suspecting. It still made him ill. God, he’d been such a fool.
Violet’s bare foot thumped his calf under the table.
He looked up and saw her glowering at him. “What?”
Rolling her eyes, coughing briefly, she said, “Your brother asked you a question.”
“Oh.” He gave his attention to Jason. “What was it?”
“I asked if you wanted us to stay with Violet so you could go home and do whatever for a while.”
“And I,” Violet said, “told him I didn’t need a babysitter.”
“No, she doesn’t,” Hogan agreed. He stood. “And yes, I’ll be heading home now.” He waited until the others caught his not-so-subtle hint and abandoned their chairs.
“I need to get started on a new gazebo today,” Jason said.
Honor hooked her arm through her husband’s. “And I have to be at the salon in an hour.”
Glad to get them on their way, Hogan nodded. “I’ll walk you guys out.”
“You’re leaving now, too?”
Violet looked small and vulnerable and as far from “sweet” as a woman could get. “We’ll talk first,” he promised her. “Then I’ll go.”
“Honor, thank you for the cookies. Jason, thank you for the coffee. And, Colt, thank you for helping out at the diner.”
Colt slung his arm around her. “Thank you for the temporary job.” He gave her a squeeze, said, “Let me know if you need anything, all right?” and followed his uncle out.
Hogan gave her a long look. “I’ll be right back.”
After a few minutes spent chatting with Jason and Honor, Hogan watched them drive away. He turned to his son. “So, how’s everything going?”
“What do you mean?”
“New girl? Odd jobs? School?”
“Everything’s great, Dad. No worries.” He rattled the keys to his old pickup in his hand, anxious to be on his way.
Hogan settled against the fender. “You like the girl?”
The slow smile reminded him way too much of himself, and his uncle. “Yeah. She’s shy, but really nice.”
“Pretty, too, I noticed.”
Colt gave one nod. “Definitely pretty.”
“Working at the diner won’t put a crimp in things?” Colt carried a lot of AP classes, worked nights and weekends cutting grass and doing yard work, plus odds and ends jobs for neighbors, and still fit in time for girls and his friends.
“No, it’ll be fine.”
He didn’t often feel uncomfortable with his son, but over a touchy subject like college, he couldn’t help but frown. “I’m setting up another college fund—”
“It’s fine.” Colt opened the truck door in a rush. “I should get going. I’ve got five lawns to finish up before the diner opens.”
“Five?”
“They’re the size of postage stamps, Dad. Won’t take me long.”
Clearly Colt didn’t want to talk about it, either. Hogan let out a long breath. “I’ll see you at noon?”
“Probably quarter till. I’ll help you open.” He put the key in the ignition, but didn’t start it. “What’ll happen tomorrow?”
Hogan shook his head. “She’ll insist on coming in. She’s still got five days of meds to take, and she’s still running on empty, but there’s no way I can stop her.”
“I guess not.” Colt gave it some thought. “Tell the others to step up as much as they can.”
“Good idea. I’ll do that.” He clasped his son by the shoulder and gave him a squeeze. “Be safe.”
Colt grinned. “You, too, Dad.”
Hogan closed the door, then turned to go back up the walk. He saw Violet standing at the window.