LAUREN DIDN’T KNOW what to do with herself, not just because her house didn’t contain any furniture. Though that didn’t help at all.
It was empty, and she had nowhere to sit but the floor. There was a blanket laid out there on the carpet, because Calder had said he was going to bring food. But that meant the two of them were going to be engaged in some kind of weird indoor picnic. And it was going to make her protestations from earlier seem awfully hollow.
Because there was no way that didn’t look like she was hitting on him.
Was she hitting on him?
She was not the kind of girl who hooked up just because she saw a man and thought he was hot. And sure, most of that was related to having been married for thirteen years, but regardless, because of circumstances, she hadn’t really experienced anything like that. And she couldn’t say that she was that eager to either.
But Calder made her feel eager to. Unbidden, she had a flash in her mind of what it would be like. To experience all that strength pounding into her.
She bit the inside of her cheek and closed her eyes. She never thought about things in those terms. She hadn’t had a fantasy that graphic when she was married. Of course, then, sex had been pretty casual. Easily accessible.
Her husband had always been up for it, more or less. The question was always whether or not she was in the mood after spending two days being ignored, or if he came home with beer on his breath. How able she was to ignore the fact that he had probably been driving.
Robert had never been cruel. At least, not intentionally. He had just never aged past eighteen, when the height of a good time to him was going out, getting drunk and riding on the dunes with his buddies. Disappearing for a few days to go on a hunt. To go camping. He thought nothing of making big purchases without checking with her. Thought nothing of going out drinking every night and coming home late, totally missing family dinners.
Didn’t see why he should be expected to show at the kids’ birthday parties, because they were boring. He could never get it through his head that she didn’t really think they were fun but she threw them anyway. Because love was about giving. Not taking.
He’d never understood that.
The fact of the matter was he had been a terrible husband. And that would have been almost forgivable if he hadn’t been such a neglectful father. He had loved the girls, in a strange, hands-off kind of way.
He had showed off their pictures to anyone who came into his garage. Had talked about them like his world revolved around them, but his actions had never once matched up with that. He wasn’t the one driving them to sports and lessons. He wasn’t the one sitting through recitals. The money he made working for the body shop paid for all that stuff, and in his mind, that had been enough. Except, there was a certain point where she had been making as much as he was, and then later more with her home business, and he had never quite realized that. That it saved them when he went out and did dumbass shit like buying a toy trailer without asking. Without checking to see what they owed on their taxes.
Those thoughts made her feel guilty because she couldn’t think about anything without remembering the frustration she had felt toward him at the end.
Couldn’t think about the way she had felt about him in the beginning. Couldn’t think about the fact that that first time they’d had sex had been really nice.
Fun.
He had been fun. In the beginning.
And more than that, he’d been her choice. So everything that followed...it was her consequence and she had to own it.
Sometimes she could remember why she’d made that choice.
How he felt like a chance to escape her somewhat sedate and restrictive upbringing. Something wild.
But as their family had grown, as their list of responsibilities had grown, fun hadn’t been enough for her anymore. And he had never been able to understand that. He had always said that she was the one who had changed. And he wasn’t wrong. She had changed and he hadn’t. But considering they had gotten together when they were still teenagers, he should have changed. For their children if not for her.
Instead, he was dead. He was dead because he drank too many beers and had thought doing a round on the dunes in his four-wheeler was a good idea.
It damn well hadn’t been.
There was a knock at the door and she stood, grateful for the interruption of her thoughts. The Robert rabbit trail of thought was unhappy. No matter how she looked at it. Even down to the fact that she wasn’t able to mourn him the way that she wished she could.
Because he hadn’t been the husband and father she wished he had been.
She sighed and walked over to the door, her chest tightening a bit when she saw the vague impression of Calder through the mottled glass.
She could see that he was carrying a large brown paper bag. The food, she presumed.
She pulled the door open.
“Hi,” she said, the word starting strong, then fading to a whisper as she took in the sight of him. Damn he was hot. Really, really hot. He was wearing that same black T-shirt and black cowboy hat he had on earlier, and he was carrying food. Which frankly, just made him all the more attractive.
“Burgers,” he said. “I forgot to check if you were like a vegetarian or something.”
“Not,” she said.
He nodded and came in without waiting for her to invite him. His eyes fell to the blanket on the floor and she shifted uncomfortably.
“I don’t have any furniture in here yet. Technically, the house isn’t mine. But the owners agreed to let me have a key, and let me do all this work. My real estate agent is opposed to it, because the bank could still ultimately decline the loan.”
“Why are you doing it?”
“It’s a short sale. And it’s a killer deal. And it’s kind of an endless circle, because the bank won’t give me the loan unless these repairs are done, but the owners can’t afford to do the repairs. So, I’m going to do them so that it passes inspection. And I might lose all my money. And my whole investment.”
“Not if I have anything to do with it.”
“I really do appreciate your offer to help,” she said.
He walked farther into the room, setting the bag down on the blanket, and sitting himself down, as well.
“Thank you,” she said.
“Honestly—” he waved a hand “—it’s no problem.”
“Well, it was a big problem to me. So, you can’t minimize it. It’s everything to me.”
He began to get the food out of the bag, burgers and fries. Identical as far as she could tell. And two cans of Coke. It made her smile that he’d brought soda. Soda and not beer. Like he was giving her a callback to an innocent, simpler time.
Too bad sitting near him like this didn’t feel simple or innocent.
“Where are your kids?” he asked, the question doing something to break the weird sex haze she was in.
“They’re with my parents.”
“Boys? Girls? How old?” he pressed.
She blinked. “Are you really interested?”
“I am. I don’t know anything about your life after you left town.”
“Well, I don’t know anything about yours either.”
He seemed to take that as an offer to trade. “My dad passed a year ago or so. I’m running the ranch with Tanner and Jackson. Jackson has a daughter. He’s married. Tanner is still single.”
She hadn’t known the Reid family well, but she vaguely remembered Calder’s dad. A big, serious man who always wore a Stetson, no matter the occasion. “I’m sorry to hear about your dad.”
“Yeah. We’re all sorry. But, I’ve never been married. No kids. Just a rancher like my old man.”
“There’s no just about being a rancher,” she said. “You and I both know that being a rancher is hard work.”
“I suppose. But you know what they say about idle hands. I’ve always figured as badly as I behave while doing hard work I better never let my hands grow idle.”
His blue eyes clashed with hers, the spark there undeniable. He was trying to make her think dirty things. And it was such a basic line. She should not let something like that affect her. Thrill her. And yet it did.
She swallowed hard, trying to do something to minimize the chain of heat moving through her body.
“Well. I guess it’s good to know your strengths. And your weaknesses.”
The corner of his mouth tipped up. “I never said I had weaknesses.”
She cleared her throat. “Girls. I have girls.” There, that would get her back on solid ground. “My oldest is fourteen. Ava. And Grace is twelve.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Wow,” he said. “I guess I didn’t imagine...”
“Were you thinking I had babies?”
“I guess so. I know you’re older than me, Lauren, but with time, the age gap seems pretty small.”
“You were doing better before you mentioned my age,” she said, narrowing her eyes.
He lifted his hands. “I didn’t mean it like that. I was just saying... I don’t have kids. Like I said. So, it just kinda blows my mind to imagine someone I consider close in age to me having...teenagers.”
She hopped out a laugh. “Yeah, it blows my mind, too, sometimes. When it’s not terrifying me to my soul.”
“How long has your husband been gone?”
She looked up sharply, meeting his gaze, then grabbing hold of the paper bag, digging around inside for the food.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “You don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to.”
“No,” she said. “It’s just... Most people dance around it. Most people don’t just ask.”
“I figure as people we can get a lot more accomplished if we would just ask. I don’t see the point in dancing around things. Of course, I don’t really see the point in dancing.”
She picked a french fry up out of the bag and crunched it. “Really?”
“Nope. Dancing is just a prelude to what people really want to do. I don’t do pretense.”
She nearly choked on the fry. “Then why are you here?”
It felt bold to say that. Like she was applying motive that might not be there. And she might well embarrass herself by doing that. Assuming that this...younger...hotter guy wanted her.
That was the thing. She was a mom. A mom in her midthirties. She had stretch marks and dimples on her thighs and stuff. And he was like...
Well, he was fantasy material.
The true hilarity was the age difference had worked to his disadvantage years ago. He had been a kid. And now... Now she just felt ridiculous lusting after him, really.
Assuming that it wasn’t one-sided.
But, hell. She was going for it. Because she felt like there was a vibe, and she was just going to assume there was. “Isn’t this a pretense?”
He looked her over, slow and lazy, and she felt it like a touch. “No,” he said. “I want to help you. Now... Would I say no if you tried to kiss me? I sure as hell would not. But I swear to God I’m not manipulating you. I’m not pretending anything.”
“You’re not?”
“Hell no. I’d fuck you right now if you were into it.”
Her internal muscles clenched. Hard. That should have been impertinent, and not at all hot.
But she felt very, very hot.
“Well...”
“See? No pretense.”
“Not really sure how we got from my dead husband to you being willing to fuck me.”
“When you put it like that it does seem odd. But it seemed natural in the moment.”
She tilted her head to the side. “You don’t embarrass easily, do you?”
He shrugged. “I don’t think I embarrass at all.”
She sighed heavily. She didn’t know what the hell kind of conversation they were having. Covering everything from his dad’s death to her children, and his total willingness to do it with her on the floor. So she might as well keep on making it weird. “Three years. He—my husband, Robert—has been gone for three years.”
Calder nodded slowly. “I do know what it’s like to lose someone like that. I’m sorry. I mean, my dad died, but your parents do tend to die before you. That’s the order of things. And when you’re an adult. Not when you’re a kid like it was for your girls. I’m really sorry about that.”
“I’m sorry they lost him, too,” she said.
He didn’t say anything, but a flicker of understanding ignited in his blue eyes.
“I think it would be best if I just took help with the flooring,” she said slowly.
“Probably,” he agreed.
“Just...so we’re clear.”
“Perfectly clear,” he said. “No pretense, like I said.”
“Then let’s finish eating and I’ll show you where the work is.”
* * *
CALDER COULDN’T FIGURE out whether or not he’d made a misstep by making it so clear that he was into Lauren. But then, like Tanner had said earlier, a woman in her position was going to be interested in only two things.
Something purely physical, or something permanent.
He was attracted to her, and the attraction had only intensified when he had walked in tonight and seen her.
He loved everything about the changes the years had sculpted into her body. Her hips were wider, her breasts larger, her cheekbones a bit more sculpted. There was a world-weariness to her eyes that he didn’t like, but there was also something else. A depth. It intrigued him. Called to him. And that had nothing at all to do with sex. So he didn’t know what the hell to do with it.
He was pretty deep into the flooring job, and all that physical labor hadn’t done anything to dampen his libido, so he supposed he could take comfort in the fact that even if sex wasn’t the only thing on his mind when he looked at Lauren, it was on his mind.
Three years. Her husband had been gone three years. Which meant her girls would have been eleven and nine when that happened. And she was having to go through raising a preteen and a teenager all alone.
He knew sweet fuck all about raising kids. He certainly wouldn’t be of any help to her.
She didn’t ask, asshole.
Well, he wasn’t even thinking about offering. Not at all. He hammered harder at the flooring, bringing the gap between the two wooden slats to a close. It was pretty easy work, as it went. There was just no making it go faster than it could.
While he was doing that, she was painting in the other room. Not necessary, she said, but she preferred to get it done before the floor was in for ease. And, he had a feeling that she was avoiding him. Which, after the way he had run his mouth, he couldn’t blame her.
Except, he knew that she wasn’t completely turned off by the idea of sleeping with him either. No, not completely.
He had seen the interest there. Seeing that little spark in those lovely brown eyes.
She wanted him. That was obvious.
But there was a hesitance to it, and he wasn’t quite sure what it was. Unless it was the same hesitancy he was feeling. Knowing that there couldn’t be a middle ground.
He didn’t particularly want middle ground. Not at the moment. He’d have her on the ground. That would work.
Shit. He really needed to get himself together. Yeah, she was a fantasy, always had been. But, she was also a complication. And there were any number of women in town who wouldn’t be complicated. Why was he fascinated by the one who would be? One who had just come back into town?
It was all a holdover from old adolescent feelings. That was all. It was all it could be.
They hadn’t exchanged very many words. She couldn’t actually be unique, or special. Not really. Not so quickly. He was too damned old to be getting tied up like this by his hormones.
Twenty-nine and with a lot of experience under his belt. But no matter how many times he repeated that simple truth to himself he still felt... Way the hell too much.
“Would you mind...?”
He turned around and saw her standing in the doorway. She hesitated, tucked a strand of blond hair behind her ear. “Would you mind helping me reach something?”
He looked down at his project, dropped his hammer onto the subfloor and stood up.
“Not at all,” he said, his gut tightening.
No pretense. There was no pretense between the two of them. Not at all. Which meant that if the woman wanted sex, she would say so. And if she wanted him to reach something for her, she would say that. So that was it. That was all. And still, heat flooded him.
He followed her into a bedroom, which was clearly an addition, since the ceilings were a hell of a lot taller than any of the other rooms. The slab foundation was exposed, and he imagined this was the next floor-length project.
“I need to get tape around the light fixtures, and I just can’t get myself into a position where I can reach them,” she said, gesturing to the ladder. “Nothing really works.”
“Lucky for you, I’m a bit taller.”
“True.”
“I’ve got it.” He grabbed a roll of blue tape and began to climb the ladder, applying tape around the perimeter of the first recessed lighting can, before moving to the other.
“My daughters are mad at me,” she said.
“Really?”
He was surprised she volunteered that bit of information.
“Yes,” she said. “They didn’t want to move. They liked living in Hillsboro. Being closer to Portland. There was so much more to do. They had friends there. It’s one reason I took so long to come back. They were settled into their schools and... They had friends. But Grace is starting seventh grade, and at that age girls change a lot and have friend drama sometimes anyway. Ava is going into high school. I figured with Ava changing schools, that was the best time, if it was going to happen. And really, I know there’s no good time. But I couldn’t stay there anymore. There was nothing for me. My parents are here. Gold Valley is my home. I was tired of being in the place I was because of... Because of him. I didn’t move there for me. I moved there because he liked living there. And I was just tired of that. Plus, I couldn’t afford any houses in the area. So I was just going to be stuck in the rental, and I didn’t want that anymore either. I wanted to come home. I wanted to be somewhere that felt like me. The town and the house. And they both think that I’ve ruined their lives.”
He nodded slowly, climbing down the ladder and shifting it so that it was by the next light fixture. “It’s my understanding that teenagers and preteens are supposed to feel like you ruined their lives.”
“Yeah. I guess so. I remember feeling that way. And then I left home at nineteen and married the first asshole that I fell in love with. So, I was kind of hoping to avoid that sort of thing with my own kids.”
“He couldn’t have been an asshole that whole time,” he said, realizing it wasn’t exactly his place to push on this. But she was talking. And he was... He was interested.
“He wasn’t. You’re right. And actually... He would never have been an asshole if he wasn’t in his thirties. If he wasn’t a husband and father. He would have been a fun guy. A nice guy, even if he drank a little bit too much. But that kind of stuff isn’t attractive on a man that age. Not when you’re depending on him.”
“I get that.”
Really, he understood exactly where she was coming from. There was a reason he hadn’t gotten married and had kids. He hadn’t been sure he could handle that yet. His life had been serious. Far too serious. All manner of relationship drama with his dad, who had not been ready to get married and settle down. He had been a stable man in many ways, working the ranch his entire life. But he had been a bad husband. He had been a decently involved father, but Calder couldn’t help but wonder if part of that was due to the fact that he had sons who had been willing to work the place with him. What would have happened if he had daughters? He had been decent to Chloe, but she had been older, as had their father, when he had married her mother.
If he had been a young man with daughters who had required something other than him to act as foreman more than father, he wasn’t sure how that would have gone. And in the end, the fact of the matter was their father had been more their boss than their dad. And that was a difficult thing. Calder had never wanted that for himself. And so he had avoided it. He didn’t have a hell of a lot of respect for a man who didn’t know himself well enough to know what he should or shouldn’t get into.
“He should have stepped up,” Calder said.
He shouldn’t have said that anymore than he should’ve started questioning her about her late husband, but he found he couldn’t help himself.
“That simple?” she asked.
He could feel her eyes on him. Not just looking at him, but checking him out. He’d never felt a woman’s gaze like that. Like a physical touch.
Damn. He was fighting a hard-on and trying to keep on task and not making it about sex between them. But the problem was her. That she wanted him, too, even if she couldn’t admit it.
“Hell yes, I think it’s that simple,” he said. “If a man has responsibilities he should rise to them. If not, I’m not sure that he’s a man.”
He climbed down the ladder, stood in front of her and looked at her. Really looked. At the sadness in her eyes, that vulnerability. He wanted to fix that, too. But hell, he knew it wouldn’t be as easy as fixing a wooden floor.
“You know, part of me always felt like it was, too,” she said, the words soft and choked. “And I have spent years making excuses for him. I did it while he was alive, and even though I’ve been angry at him in death, I’ve done it since he died, too. But I... Sometimes I think it would have been so easy. He just needed to grow up. He just needed to quit being selfish. I did it, Calder, why couldn’t he? I was young, too. But I took care of the girls, and I worked hard, and I didn’t hang out with friends every time I wanted to. And I didn’t buy things every time I wanted them. And I quit drinking so much, and I quit staying up late. And I just don’t understand why he couldn’t. He thought I wasn’t fun. He thought I was the one who changed. But I was just being... I was just being the adult. Half the time I felt like I had three children, and I didn’t like one of them very much.”
She was breathing hard when she finished her rant, her shoulders rising and falling with each labored breath. “And then he went and got himself killed. I can’t even grieve him, not really. I was so angry at the pain that he caused. Me, my daughters. More angry than I am sad. Because he was the one who chose to get drunk before he got on the quad. He was the one who was still acting like he was eighteen when we were parents. It’s his own fault. It was avoidable.” She pounded her hand against her chest, punctuating her words. “And that’s a terrible thing to say, I know it. But sometimes I’m just so damn tired of trying to be the mature one. He’s not even alive anymore and that’s what I’m doing. Making excuses. Trying to cover it. I have to. I can’t say anything bad about him in front of the girls... He’s gone. And he’s their father. And...”
She stopped talking, her brown eyes colliding with his. “I’m tired. I’m tired of doing the right thing. I’m tired of being predictable and organized and mature. I’m tired of my planner.”
The air got thick between them, and everything inside Calder went tight. “Maybe I want to do something wrong,” she said, the look in her eyes changing, growing more intent.
There was a breath, one moment, where he knew exactly what she was about to do next before she did it. And in that moment he decided a couple of things.
The first was that he was 100 percent here for this.
The second was that he wasn’t just going to be her mistake. Wasn’t going to be her little rebellion. She was a woman who had given everything to a man who didn’t deserve it. She had given him children. She had given him years of hard work and faithfulness, and a hell of a lot more forgiveness and credit than he deserved from the sounds of things.
And Calder didn’t want to just be a moment of escape for her.
They could start there. But what he knew in that moment was that he wanted to give her everything her husband hadn’t.
Why he knew that with such absolute certainty, he couldn’t say.
But he knew it wasn’t just lust. He knew it with a kind of baseline certainty he couldn’t begin to comprehend.
But Calder was a man who dealt in certainty. And for a hell of a lot of years he had been certain that he didn’t want the responsibility of a wife and children. And as the feelings of certainty surrounding Lauren clicked into place, those other truths about himself shifted on its axis. And it didn’t even scare him.
That was when she kissed him. It was like an explosion of heat and fire. Like nothing he had ever experienced before. And he had experienced quite a lot.
Then, he let everything else fade into the background. Because the rest would take care of itself. But for now, he was kissing Lauren Bishop.
And he was going to go ahead and glory in that.