But she sat back, pulling her body away from his, leaving nothing but cold air. She wrapped the sheets around herself. “I’m serious.”
“I can see that.”
He sat up, pulling the blanket across his lap.
“We’re painting next week.”
Eli nodded. One thing he could say about his mother and that Gavin guy—they worked fast.
“Celeste is going to a hotel in Springfield.” Eli waited, wondering what this had to do with him. Victoria suddenly became very interested in the stitching on the seam of the sheets. “I … ah … I can’t really afford that.”
“You need money?”
She winced, looking at him from under her dark lashes.
He loved those lashes. The way they rested on her cheeks like fans while she slept. They were so long, they cast shadows in certain light. “I was hoping for a place to stay. For … Jacob and me.”
It took him a second to realize what she was asking, and she just stared at him until the shoe dropped and he laughed.
“You’re kidding, right?”
She sucked in a quick breath, turning her face away.
Uh-oh. Not kidding.
“I just … you want to stay here? With Jacob?”
“Never mind.” She shot a bright smile over her shoulder while she reached down to the floor for her underwear. The long, pale length of her back was exposed by the sheet and it was rigid.
He put his hand on her spine and she stiffened away from him. “It was dumb … to ask. I know how weird—”
“Sure.”
Her brow furrowed as if she were trying to translate his word into ancient Greek. “Sure what? We … can stay, or it’s weird to ask?”
“You can stay.”
Other women might have squealed. A couple of them in his past would have started planning weddings, stopped taking their birth control pills. But not Victoria. She eyed him skeptically, clutching that sheet tighter across her chest, as if waiting for his second thoughts.
“You sure?”
“Yeah, I got that guest room. The bed’s pretty soft, but I figure he’ll be okay for a few nights.”
Her smile made him ache, made his chest feel too tight.
“I can’t … I won’t sleep with you while we’re here. I don’t want to have to explain—”
That Mom’s acting the slut. He didn’t blame her.
“I mean, he knows I’m not going to … you know …” She trailed off into an agonized silence.
“I don’t. I have no clue what you’re talking about.”
“He knows I’m never getting married.”
The word
married
made his chest even tighter.
“It’s the guest room, not a proposal.”
“I know … but I don’t want you to think I’m embarrassed or …” Her eyes became very serious, her whole body tense with meaning. “Anything. About you.”
“Anything” meant in love. Message received. He wasn’t “anything” with her either.
“It’s the guest room, Tori. And I didn’t think you’d be sleeping with me while your son was only a few feet away.”
“Okay. I know. Sorry.”
He leaned over and kissed her lips, puffy and swollen from their kisses earlier in the night.
“Thank you,” she whispered against his mouth. “I know how hard this is for you.”
It wasn’t. Not really. Not as impossible as it would have been a few months ago. But somehow revealing that to her would be revealing too much to both of them. And she was looking at him as if she knew that, as if she could read what he was feeling better than he could read it himself, and that was an imposition.
He wasn’t ready to look at what has happening in his heart. He had no interest in analyzing what it meant that they could stay.
It felt … good. And that was more than enough for him. More than he’d ever thought he’d have.
So he leaned back against the headboard and ran his hand down the muscles of his stomach until he held his erect dick in his palm.
“You really ought to make it worth my while.”
It took her a second. He could see that she wanted to discuss the situation, figure out how her staying here
might change things, but he stroked himself, pushing the sheet down so she could get a good look, and that was enough.
She flung off the covers and crawled across his small bed with the sheets he’d washed just for her.
What is happening to me?
he wondered. If those women he’d screwed in his truck, the ones he’d never let see his home, much less his bed, could see him now they wouldn’t recognize him.
He didn’t recognize himself.
chapter
21
On Monday, Eli
closed the door on the back room, his childhood bedroom. He should have bought a new mattress—the ancient double was no better than a hammock. He’d be lucky if Jacob and Victoria didn’t leave here with broken backs.
He paced into the kitchen and glanced up at the old clock above the sink. Seven o’clock. Tori had said they’d come by after dinner. What time did they eat?
He’d bought ice cream at the grocery store, which wasn’t all that different from what he usually did. But he’d also bought those cheap cones that fell apart half the time. And some ham instead of peanut butter. And a jug of milk. Kids need milk.
Outside it was getting dark, twilight pushing its purple edge toward his door. No sign of the Cadillac.
Cleaning up last night, it had taken him a half hour to find his remote control. Then he’d realized that he’d stopped paying the cable bill and they’d shut it off. So. Nothing but news and Mexican soap operas. He hoped the kid spoke Spanish.
This was going to be a disaster. He could feel it already. Tense and pissed off, he stomped from room to room, counting all the ways he was being imposed upon. And all the ways he was doomed to make a fool of himself.
Ice cream cones, what bullshit.
Maybe … maybe he’d just hang out in the barn. Let
them have the house, so he wouldn’t have to see them. That would be better. Actually, maybe he’d go get that hotel room …
The utterly foreign bong of his doorbell broke the silence and he jumped at the sound. A wild knocking followed, and then he heard Tori’s quiet voice muffled by the wood.
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 studied 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.”