by Abby Gaines
He withdrew his hand, folded his arms. “It’s not a risk I want to take.”
His shutdown was so sudden, Cynthia was left floundering for words. Hadn’t he just been telling her he wanted to make love to her? You wouldn’t think it to see the flatness in his eyes. Finally, she asked, “How did you end up in Stonewall Hollow?”
He hesitated. “I met a guy, Paul Siddons. He and his wife, Debbie, owned the Double T. Paul offered me a job. I was desperate, so I took it, though I couldn’t imagine anything I’d like less.” He smiled at the memory. “I loved it, from the get-go. When Paul retired, he and Debbie went to live in Canada near their daughter. They sold me the ranch, gave me a mortgage when the bank wouldn’t. I’m still paying them off, but in a couple of years I’ll own the place free and clear.”
“That’s quite a road you’ve traveled,” she said. “From being thrown out of home, to owning a ranch.”
“The Siddonses taught me a lot about decency, about trust, about hanging in for the long haul. I’ve tried to live that, and to pass it on to other people.”
“I admire how far you’ve come,” she said slowly, “but you can’t tell me you weren’t hurt, terribly, when Linnet threw you out. That’s how Sam must feel about his mom now. He must be in agony.”
Ethan jerked back in his seat. “It’s not the same. Susan sent Sam to me. To his father. She didn’t leave him to fend for himself.”
“He doesn’t necessarily feel as if you’re his father.”
“I’m working on that.” He drew in a breath. “Cindy—”
“Cynthia,” she corrected automatically. She wasn’t sure how she felt about him calling her Cindy. It sounded more relaxed than she ever was…which had a certain appeal.
“Cindy,” he repeated, “don’t spoil this evening by bringing up our disagreements over Sam.”
“What, you think I’ll ruin your plan to get me into bed?”
The waiter had just arrived at their table; he turned on his heel and left.
“You scared him off,” Ethan said. “Won’t be so easy to get rid of me.”
“COFFEE?” CYNTHIA OFFERED as she set her purse down on the kitchen counter in her cottage.
Ethan prowled the room, looking as hungry as if they hadn’t just had an enormous meal. “No.”
He’d held her hand on his thigh the whole way home from Gonville; she could still feel the heat of his leg against her palm. She led the way to the living room, where he joined her on the old corduroy couch.
He kissed her.
Oh, yes. His hands cupped her head, his mouth was warm and coaxing and inviting. When his tongue flicked against her lips, she parted them immediately. Ethan eased her back against the cushions.
She’d never felt such intense desire for a man. Was this the way Sabrina felt about Jake? Megan about Travis? This consuming combination of physical longing and a deep, honest connection?
Ethan’s hands moved down to her butt, and she arched to meet him. Still, she needed to be closer. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pressed against him, and he groaned.
Ethan ran kisses along her jawline, then dropped his lips to her neck, her collarbone. His hands came up to her waist…where his watch snagged on the fabric of her dress. He muttered a curse. “This isn’t the kind of dress I can tear off you, right?”
“No,” she agreed reluctantly. “It’s the only nonwork dress I have here.”
As he disentangled the offending watch, then slipped it off, she tried to think sensibly about whether her dress should come off tonight at all.
“I’m now free to wander.” He showed her his bare wrist, then his finger traced her eyebrows, her nose, down over her mouth to her chin. “You’re so beautiful.”
As his mouth explored hers again and his hands swept her curves, she tugged his shirt up, fanned her fingers on the taut skin of his back.
She lost track of time in the haze his caresses induced, in the seeking heat of his mouth. When they broke apart, her limbs were like jelly. She had no volition beyond responding to Ethan.
While she’d been lost in that kiss, her fingers had been greedily pushing his shirt buttons through their holes. His bare chest was a beautiful sight. She reached out and touched. “The bed thing,” she started.
He shuddered beneath her fingers. “What about it?”
“You’re not looking for a serious relationship.”
“Neither are you,” he said. “You’re leaving town.”
She kissed his shoulder. “All I want is to know how you feel.”
He laced her fingers through his, brought her knuckles to his mouth and nipped. Sensation shot through her. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t think expressing your feelings comes naturally to you,” she said. “At least it doesn’t with Sam.”
He tensed. “We’re not talking about Sam. And he understands how I feel.”
Now wasn’t the time to argue that. “But I don’t like second-guessing you,” she said. “I’m not asking for undying devotion or anything. I just need to know where I stand at any given time.”
“And, uh, how would you expect to figure that out?”
She smiled against his neck. “You would tell me. Honestly and simply.”
“That sounds reasonable.” He took her mouth again, dragging her into a deep kiss.
“So,” she managed to say some time later, “how do you feel about me?”
He lifted his head from the inside of her knee, a spot she’d never realized was so sensitive. “You want me to tell you now?”
She blinked. “That’s what I’ve been explaining to you.”
“You mean, right now?”
She scrambled up on the cushions. “Ethan, I told you. It doesn’t matter how you feel, as long as you don’t leave me in the dark. You can be honest.”
He shot upright. “No way.”
“No way you won’t be honest?” She tugged her skirt down from around her thighs.
“I’m not doing this,” he said. “I’m not getting into a situation where I can screw up yet another relationship.”
“If you’re honest, what can possibly go wrong?” Problems, she realized, occurred when you didn’t know what someone else expected of you. When you loved them but weren’t sure they loved you back.
“There are a million things that can go wrong.” He began buttoning his shirt. “This isn’t how you start a relationship, even a casual one. You don’t decide how you feel on day one. It takes time to figure that stuff out.”
“And even longer to say it,” she suggested.
“Maybe,” he said warily.
“The eleven years it’s taken you to not tell your mother how you feel?” she demanded. “Or the eighteen years for Sam?”
“I didn’t know Sam,” he snapped.
“All the more reason to do some catching up.”
“Why are we talking about this?” he said. “From day one you’ve been in my family’s face. Just drop it, Cynthia. I don’t need you butting in.”
“Fine,” she snapped. “Let’s just drop everything.”
“Fine,” he said, as he walked out the door.
“Fine,” she muttered as his car pulled out of her driveway.
CHAPTER TWELVE
IT WAS ONE THING KISSING a man, half undressing him late at night after a few glasses of wine. It was another to face him in daylight, after he’d refused to make love to you.
As Cynthia spread her toast with Melanie’s homemade strawberry jam on Sunday morning, she considered staying away from the Fourth of July rodeo. The thought of the you-nearly-saw-me-naked awkwardness with Ethan was unbearable.
She missed him already, the stubborn, uncommunicative jerk. He’d said he didn’t want complications so she’d made it as simple as possible. Didn’t matter what he felt, all he had to do was tell her. So she wouldn’t end up feeling the way she did with her family. Insecure. But he couldn’t even do that.
She was halfway through brushing her teeth when the door
bell rang.
Ethan! Her heart leaped. Maybe he’d spent a sleepless night, like her, and decided he could tell her what he felt. That he couldn’t afford not to.
Her toothbrush clattered into the sink. She defoamed, shimmied out of her ratty pajamas and pulled on white denim shorts and a pink tank top.
The doorbell rang again. “Coming,” she called, as she tugged a brush through her hair. She slowed as she reached the bottom of the stairs, took a calming breath, pinned on a smile.
She opened the door.
“Surprise!” her sisters chorused.
Travis and Jake, her brothers-in-law, stood behind Megan and Sabrina, grinning, crowding her porch.
Cynthia felt a sting of disappointment as she hugged both girls, followed by guilt, panic and, belatedly, pleasure in seeing her family.
“What are you doing here? It’s so great to see you.” She stepped aside so they could troop into the cottage.
“Wow, look at this place,” Sabrina said. “So cute.”
“Take off your rose-colored spectacles, darling,” Jake said. “It’s a dump.”
Sabrina swatted him. “It has character.”
“Sorry about the mess, I overslept.” Cynthia waved apologetically at the breakfast clutter. “If I’d known you were coming…”
“You said you were busy with your fair judging yesterday, but we figured we could spend the Fourth—” Megan stopped. She’d been scanning the room more objectively than Sabrina, and obviously she’d found something. Megan had always been part-bloodhound. Was there an Ethan-shaped dent in the cushions? Cynthia didn’t want to look.
Travis, who knew Megan better than she knew herself, squeezed his wife’s hand and gave Cynthia a sympathetic look. Her stomach lurched. “How about us guys make coffee,” he suggested. “Come on, Jake.”
“Hey, I’m the governor. People bring me coffee,” Jake protested.
“I’m helping you keep you in touch with the little people,” Travis said.
Grumbling good-naturedly, Jake followed him into the kitchen. The door closed behind the two men.
“So,” Megan said, “which man left his watch on your couch in a moment of passion?”
Sabrina squawked. “Where?” She dived for the couch, fishing out Ethan’s watch. “Ohh, let’s take a look.” She examined the face. “Timex.”
Cynthia blushed, as if it would be more acceptable to have a Rolex or a TAG Heuer stuffed into her sofa. Then she blushed deeper because she remembered the delicious touch of Ethan’s watchless hand. She blushed beyond belief when she remembered how he’d walked out, not caring enough to find words to say to her.
“Who is he?” Megan demanded. “You’re beet-red.”
“I’m not,” Cynthia said. “And he’s…no one.”
“How long is it since you had a date, let alone loosened up enough to make out on the couch?” Sabrina pushed a strand of blond hair behind her ear, her blue eyes wide beneath perfectly shaped brows. “This guy is someone, Cynthia.”
That’s what she was starting to worry about. “There’s not a lot else to do in this place,” she prevaricated. “Look, he’s a nice guy, we went out for dinner, we kissed.”
“And it was hot,” Sabrina said helpfully.
“Yes, it was hot.” Just like her cheeks. “But it was only a kiss.”
“So…you’re not dating him?” Sabrina sounded disappointed. “Why not?”
Because he thinks I’m too complicated. “It’s difficult. He’s involved in the justice system, and I’m the only judge.”
“He’s not in trouble with the law?” Megan’s forehead creased with her determination not to overreact. But she nibbled on her lower lip.
“Someone close to him is. It’s a major conflict.”
“Conflict of interest is no excuse for giving up,” Sabrina said. “Look at Megan and Travis.”
Megan cleared her throat—she was never entirely comfortable with the reminder she’d met her husband when they were working opposite sides of a divorce case.
Cynthia seized the opportunity to change the subject. “How’s Dad?” She snatched Ethan’s watch from Sabrina and wedged it into the pocket of her shorts.
“He sends his love,” Megan said. “As soon as he heard we were going out of town, he set up a golf weekend. But he wants to hear everything you’re up to.”
Cynthia shivered. Only about five percent of what had happened since she arrived in Stonewall Hollow was fit for Jonah’s ears. She plumped up the cushions on the couch. “So what would you guys like to do while you’re here? I can show you around the courthouse.” She didn’t want to encounter Ethan in front of her family, and that’s one place he wouldn’t be today.
Sabrina stuck out a foot and lifted the long skirt of her sundress. “We’re here for the rodeo. I bought these boots especially.” Lime-green cowboy boots with three-inch heels.
Cynthia had to laugh. “Okay, I guess it’s the rodeo, then.” She had a moment of panic…what if she’d overestimated her success yesterday, and people still didn’t like her? What if they liked her sisters better? What if Ethan liked her sisters better? Ethan doesn’t matter. “If you get bored, we can come back here.”
Megan grinned. “I won’t be bored, I’ll be on the lookout for a guy who’s lost his watch.”
Jake came back into the room with mugs, cream and sugar. Travis followed, carrying a pot of coffee. “Still harassing your sister, Megs?” Travis dropped a kiss on Megan’s lips.
“Almost done,” she said. He shook his head with a silent warning. They’d only been married just over a month, but Cynthia was always amazed how well Travis seemed to know his wife.
He served the coffee and they settled on every available seat, with Sabrina perched on the coffee table.
“We have news,” Megan said. “Good news.”
Cynthia gasped. “You’re having a baby?” Megan had always sworn she didn’t want kids, but she’d noticeably softened on that stance since she met Travis. She and Travis job-shared the managing partner role at Merritt, Merritt & Finch, an arrangement Cynthia assumed was intended to one day accommodate a kid-friendly lifestyle.
“Good news for you,” Megan amended. “Dad got a call late last night.” She paused for effect.
“Spit it out,” Cynthia said.
“Judge Fisher has brought forward his retirement,” Megan announced. “His wife wants a round-the-world trip for their golden wedding, so he’s finishing mid-August. There’ll be an announcement soon.”
“I guess they’ll be speeding up the appointment of a new judge.” Cynthia sipped on her coffee, while she dug into the couch cushion with the fingers of her left hand. So soon? She could be out of here? Maybe without ever having to face Ethan…that was patently ridiculous, she quashed the thought.
“You guessed it. And the great news is, Justice Pearson has taken over as head of the nominating committee.”
Hal Pearson was one of their father’s oldest friends. Not a golf and fishing buddy, but a friendship born of a long time spent as colleagues, bolstered by shared views on most issues.
“Dad’s been talking to Hal about you, and Hal is—” Megan made quote marks “‘—intrigued.’ And impressed by what Dad calls your determination to understand the needs of smaller communities.” Her smile was sympathetically mocking.
“I was banished.”
“Dad’s view is Hal didn’t need to know every detail,” Megan said. “Best not to use the B word when he visits.”
Cynthia slopped her coffee. “When he what?”
Sabrina went to get a cloth, ignoring Jake’s attempts to have her stay where she was.
“If Hal recommends you to the committee, he needs to do so in good faith, not just because he’s a friend of Dad’s. He plans to come down Thursday the fifteenth for an informal chat. Then he’ll sit in on a court session.”
Cynthia had ten days to perfect her performance. Ten days to keep everyone in town on her side. Ten days to avoid Ethan….
“Cyn?” Megan eyed her curiously over the rim of her mug—she’d said something Cynthia had missed. “Dad wants to know if you’re in session that day—that it’s not Stonewall Hollow Independence Day or something.”
“I’m in session,” Cynthia said woodenly.
Megan’s eyes softened. “Hal won’t expect you to start off in the superior court a hundred percent perfect. You’ll be mentored by a more experienced judge.”
“This is what you want, isn’t it?” Sabrina chipped in as she wiped the spilled coffee. “You don’t think it’ll be too stressful?”
“Of course it’s what I want,” Cynthia said. Her answer would go directly back to Jonah. Inside, she felt like the rope in the tug-of-war at the fair yesterday.
The pull of home, of her dad and the plans they’d made versus the pull of her realization that those things weren’t enough.
ETHAN HAD BEEN WATCHING for Cindy since the minute he got to the rodeo. He’d wanted to stop by her place on his way in, but with Sam in the truck, sullen in the extreme, it didn’t seem wise.
Last night’s dinner, then those kisses, those caresses. Mind-blowing. Too mind-blowing. Every instinct screamed he was out of his depth, no matter what tripe he’d told Cindy about not wanting complications.
It scared the hell out of him. Look what a damn-awful job he was doing with his mom and Sam, barely keeping his temper half the time. But he’d realized last night he might not be able to let Cindy go. He wanted her in a way that transcended any other desire he knew.
Talk about triple complications. He couldn’t begin to explore those thoughts without telling Cindy the truth. Confessing, to use the legal jargon.
He wasn’t about to confess here at the rodeo, but he could ask her for another date. Another chance. Hell, how many chances did a guy have to get it right?
Ethan glanced at his wrist and for the tenth time that morning found it bare. In the arena, they’d finished the senior grade competition, so it had to be nearly eleven.
He turned back to watch the presentation of prizes to the seniors. A cheer went up after each award. The weather couldn’t be better and the crowd was ready to applaud just about anything.
