by Siera London
He said it. His heart twisted at the thought of her out on the road to nowhere alone, vulnerable. Almost two years widowed, Owen accepted that this was his path to walk, raising his son alone, and he’d stay the course, but … Ivy would stay the night. The sudden urge he felt to keep her safe and under his roof, pissed him off. He belonged to Caitlyn, heart and soul, yet his fingers ached to touch Ivy Summers one more time.
Chapter 2
Ivy wondered at the sudden change in Owen’s mood. He’d practically forbid her to leave, but now he sulked as if he were upset she’d stayed. Was it a mistake to accept his offer to bunk down for the night? As they’d traversed to a back staircase off the kitchen he’d been angry…at her. In the morning, she’d hit the bricks at sunrise.
She was safe and well-fed…for now.
Owen opened the door. “This is the room.”
He angled his large frame, giving her a narrow passage. Her arm brushed his abdomen and she felt the contraction of his muscles vibrate through her body. Her breath caught. This tension between them was off the charts.
“Thanks,” she said slipping past him.
The bedroom was small in size containing a full-sized bed with a lacy-white bedskirt. Yep, a woman had been here. “It’s pretty.”
Owen grunted something about not his doing. While she took in her temporary home, he hung back by the door.
There was one window. Beyond the trees behind the bar, she could just make out the outline of the mountain range. A small table sat with two silver picture frames. In one photo, Owen wore a cap and gown. Above his smiling face the printed words University of California stood out next to the letters MBA. The next frame held a family portrait. Owen stood behind an upholstered chair, a blonde woman held an infant that Ivy assumed was Cai. His wife looked polished and dainty, attributes Ivy lacked. Suddenly, she felt like an intruder. Leave, she thought.
“Ivy?” Owen said, a note of concern in his voice.
She tightened her grip on the backpack. This man and his son didn’t need her storming into their domesticated lives. What did she know about white lace and family portraits? Poe would keep searching for her. What if he hurt Owen, or worse yet, Cai? A guilty conscious would make a restful sleep unlikely.
“Ivy,” his deep timbre filled the small room. “What is it?”
She felt the heat of his hand before it settled on her shoulder. When had he moved away from the door? Even with her back to him, she struggled to keep the slow burn his touch sparked from spreading in a very foolhardy direction. So much about him overwhelmed her.
“Nothing,” she squeaked out, glancing over her shoulder. Owen looked down at the pack in her hand, and then back at her. Could he see her internal struggle? Forty dollars might get her a room for the night.
“Give me your pack, Ivy,” he whispered.
He made it sound simple. Come on little lady spend one night in the belly of temptation to test your mettle. On a sigh, she handed it over.
“Here.” This decision would probably leave a painful bruise. She was definitely leaving in the morning. Owen dropped the pack in the chair none too gently.
“Get some rest,” he told her. “I’m up at six.”
Was that his way of telling her to have her stuff packed?
“Understood.” A lie. She didn’t understand not one thing since she’d laid eyes on Owen Tate. Her brain, her body, both were in some wonderland of sensation that she couldn’t process with him so close.
The other hand settled on her left shoulder. Slowly he turned her to face him.
“Tell me what you understand.”
Heat, masculine and consuming, surrounded her. The gentle wave washed over her, driving the chill from her limbs. During the walk into Endurance, she’d repeated words of encouragement she learned as a child at the Second House to distract her from the cold. Somehow hearing herself recite the familiar phrases centered her. Yeah, it wasn’t working. Owen Tate’s nearness was crossing wires and scrambling all kinds of brain circuits. She had shelter for the night, that had to be enough. No romantic notions allowed.
“I’ll be back on the highway tomorrow.”
He mumbled a couple of words before she heard a gruff, “We’ll see.”
What? She was too tired to fend off this emotional jeopardy match they had going on.
Owen’s lips thinned. Okay, why did her saying she’d be on her way seem to piss him off more?
“Breakfast is at seven-thirty,” he said, gaze unflinching, and then he disappeared to the other side of the door.
“We’ll see,” she mimicked, sticking her tongue out at the closed door. Why did she get the feeling Owen Tate enjoyed rattling her cage? The man was insufferable and she was behaving like a spoiled brat.
Crossing the room, she opened the largest zipped compartment on her pack. Digging through, she pulled out her phone and cord charger. Early in her travels, she learned to keep her phone juiced. Hitching a ride was okay, but she kept her bags closed and close. She found a power outlet hidden behind soft drapes the color of midday sunshine. With a sudden stir of nerves, Ivy waited until the icon disappeared before hitting the text message symbol. Reading the accumulated messages, she released a sigh of relief. Nothing from Poe. Maybe, he’d decided against searching for her.
Stumbling to the bed, Ivy collapsed in exhaustion. Was a fresh start too much to hope for? When she closed her eyes, she could feel the movement of the treadmill that was her life. If she could put some distance between her, the robbery, and Poe, maybe she could get back home and rebuild her life instead of running but getting nowhere.
She thought of Owen watching her eat. When he looked at her, she felt different, reborn somehow. His eyes seemed to touch her everywhere. A tingling started low in her belly the instant he touched her. Those blue eyes, she’d seen them darken to a thunderous cobalt when he grabbed her backpack. Whoa, she was expending too much energy thinking about Owen Tate.
“Get up,” she mumbled to herself. With a groan she pushed herself to stand on tired feet.
With her toiletry bag and sleep shirt in tow, she opened the bedroom door. Owen had left the light on for her. Sweet guy, for a grump. A quick shower first, and then off to la-la land.
The bathroom with its lively yellow walls reminded Ivy of sunflowers. In lieu of a bathtub, there was a shower with dual heads on one wall. A small oval sink sat in a white cabinet with fancy brushed gold fixtures. The toilet was the fanciest thing in the room. Instead of a handle, the contraption had two silver buttons, that fit together like one of those black and white peace symbols. This place reeked of a woman’s touch, yet Owen Tate seemed too hard for this woman’s soft lace and brushed gold. Ivy shook herself. When had be she become an Owen Tate aficionado? He was the polar opposite of the rough necks she rolled with, too.
Ten minutes later with her Ziploc bag filled with lotion, deodorant, toothpaste, a folding tooth brush, and baby powder with stepped into the hallway and bumped into a sleepy eyed four year-old.
Cai looked up, and stumbled back as if he were scared.
Whoa. The kid wasn’t used to seeing her in his space. His reaction answered one of her questions. Owen Tate, if he had a lady friend, kept his company separated from his son.
Eager to allay his fears, Ivy dropped to her knees.
“Cai, it’s Ivy. Remember me?”
He approached, caution in his padded step. “I’m four. I got…good memory.”
Okay, he was just as direct as his father. Owen’s wife must have had her hands full with these two yahoos.
She tousled his hair. “Of course you do, sweetheart.”
He frowned. “Boys aren’t sweethearts.”
She guessed not. Ivy changed the subject. “What are you doing out of the bed?”
That seemed to get him focused on his reason for being in the hallway. “The light in the potty ‘posed to stay on.”
She slapped a palm against her forehead. Of course. Owen had left the light on for his son. Again, s
he wasn’t thinking clearly.
Ivy took Cai by the hand. She’d just flipped the light on, and closed the bathroom door behind him, when she felt a presence behind her.
Spinning on bare feet, she slammed into a bare-chested Owen. In the dark, he seemed even larger, more menacing. Before she could back away, he captured her around the waist. Awareness of their intimate contact spiked through her. Male heat and hard muscle sent her pulse racing, faster than a thoroughbred.
“Everything okay?”
Her eyes widened. Talk about the land of hard plains and rippled valleys.
“Yeah,” she whispered, body pressed against Owen’s taut abs. Warning, a little voice echoed in her head, entering the Twilight Zone. Long ago, Ivy stopped listening to her inner voice. Once that voice had convinced her that life on the back of Johnny’s bike would be better than living alone. Now, Johnny was gone. Ivy was on her own and Poe expected to collect on Johnny’s debt. And that little voice, well, that heifer was a big liar.
* * *
Owen woke up stony as a riverbed with a mood to match. One night with Ivy under his roof and he’d had to exercise every advanced control technique the military had taught him. Finding her in the hallway last night in another one of her tie-dye shirts and nothing else, was more temptation than a saint could bear. And, man, once her touched her, there was nothing saintly about his thoughts. That slow burn he’d felt at the first touch erupted into a five-alarm fire. Every part of him was hankering for more.
Holding Ivy in his arms, reminded Owen of how long it had been since he’d caressed a woman. He remembered how much he missed Caitlyn. But, it wasn’t his wife that occupied his dreams. Nope, it was a little spitfire, with wild curls, and a sharp tongue. He knew the fire Ivy lit beneath his skin would blaze for months, maybe even years. She was wrong about the pudding and Viagra, but boy howdy, he could have gazed at her all night. Be that as it may, he found himself looking forward to breakfast. Would Ivy wear another one of those color burst t-shirts or would she surprise him?
“Stop being a sap,” he muttered. He had about twenty minutes to ready breakfast, feed Cai, and pass on instructions to Delaney, his morning help.
Mornings were crisp in the Sierra Nevada foothills until the mid-morning sunshine burned off the humidity. This morning was more of the same.
“Daddy, the toast,” Cai chirped from his booster seat at the dinette table.
“Shoot,” Owen mumbled, grabbing the charred bread from the quad toaster with his fingers. “Thanks, buddy.”
Most of downstairs consisted of the bar, the patron dining room, and a commercial-grade kitchen with a food storage pantry. To keep them from eating above stairs Owen had added a family living area with simple, yet functional dining, an L-shaped kitchen with custom cabinets above a farmhouse sink, and a television room for their private use. Caitlyn had loved the new addition with its open concept design.
Cai shook his head. “Where’s Ms. Delaney?”
Blowing on his fingers, Owen scraped the top layer off revealing a thin white section beneath. “On her way,” he rasped, hoping today it would be the truth.
Delaney had a promising future being the high school’s valedictorian, and all. But, the summer before college she’d met some semi-professional athlete in town for one of the endurance races and fallen in love. Four years gone, and she was still waiting on Dillon, something or other, to come back and take her away from small town life. Betty Jo, her grammy, had been like a mother to Caitlyn, so Owen had offered the lost young woman a job. Owen hadn’t expected Delaney to be a star employee, but he never anticipated how apathetic Delaney was about her lack of performance. He placed a lidded Ironman cup filled with whole milk and a piece of toast in front on Cai.
“Eat up, Cai.”
“‘Kay. Will Ms. Autumn be ere after school?” he asked with his mouth full.
Autumn was a local college student looking to earn some extra bucks in between semesters. A year ago when she’d approached him about babysitting Cai, he’d welcomed the help. Without Caitlyn, Owen had been scrambling to manage the bar with a rambunctious three year-old under foot. Owen suspected Autumn’s financial situation might be more dire than she let on, but she always refused his offer of an advance on her pay. Usually, Autumn made Cai’s afternoon snack and got him off to bed, so Owen could focus on getting the late-night noise makers, usually students from UC Endurance, out of the bar so he could close up shop.
“Ms. Autumn may even pick up you from school today.” Last night’s receipts needed to be deposited at 1st Bank.
Owen thought of Ivy’s shapely arms as she tried to enter the bar last night. He shook his head. Stubborn woman, she didn’t quit. Owen found himself smiling. Where was she? He glanced in the direction of the back stairs. Should he check on Ivy? When he’d come downstairs her bedroom door remained closed, thank heaven. Another peak at those thick legs, and he’d probably burn another batch of toast.
Opening the back door, to rid the room of charred bread odor, Owen glanced at the clock.
“Delaney,” he muttered, grabbing Cai’s book bag from the back of a table chair. This morning’s customers would have to wait. Cai needed to get to school. He swore under his breath. More money lost to Della’s Diner or the new coffee house, High Altitudes. The money he made during tourist season kept the bills paid through the lean months. He needed to make a decision about Delaney…and soon.
“Come on, buddy. Time for school.”
Cai frowned. “But…but, Ms. Delaney’s not here.”
The sound of light footsteps approaching drew his attention. Ivy, dressed in skinny jeans and another multicolored shirt, stood with her backpack over one shoulder. She looked nervous.
“Sorry…I, I overslept.”
The look on her face said she expected a sharp comment. Instead Owen told her the truth.
“Glad you slept well.”
A man liked to know his woman felt safe under his protection. Whoa. That was a loaded thought. Nothing about Ivy Summers belonged to him. And why did that unsettle his gut? The woman needed to belong to somebody. Plenty of hitchhikers meet with hell’s minions in God’s country. Owen wasn’t so naive to think every small town served as a safe haven for vulnerable women. Quite the opposite, especially for one as beautiful as Ivy. “There’s juice, coffee, and toast.”
She dropped the backpack at the foot of the stairs. Owen had the sudden urge to haul the thing to the trash. Then she’d stay.
“Sounds great. Who’s Delaney and Autumn?”
Man, she didn’t argue when it came to food. A desert breeze swooped in through the open door ruffling wisps of hair around her face. The loose curls gone, instead she wore thick twists that hung down to her shoulders. He liked the look on her.
“My waitress. Cai’s babysitter,” he answered, unable to take his eyes off her. “I like your hair like that.”
In an uncharacteristically shy move, Ivy ducked her head. Again, a rosy glow bloomed in her cheeks. Interesting. Comments on her sex appeal were met with bold innuendo, but a compliment earned him a blush.
“Thank you, Owen,” she smiled, crossing the floor to the counter.
Owen chuckled when Ivy crinkled her nose at the burnt toast on the plate. Looking around, she started opening cupboards, until she spied what she sought. With a coffee cup in hand, she poured a full cup, and took a pull.
“Hmmm, that’s good.” She took her time, touching everything on the counter, the utensil caddy, the spoon holder, the mug rack, and then she stopped at the sink. He gaze fixed on the view.
“Wow.” Her face split into a wide grin, child-like and cute as all get-out. “It’s beautiful here.”
Owen stood a little bit taller, knowing he’d given her something she wouldn’t find anywhere else…the raw beauty of small town living in the foothills.
He walked up behind her, careful not to touch.
“That big tree to your left is a Valley Oak. Beyond that, the tall ones that look like Christ
mas trees are Ponderosa and Jeffery Pines. The central valley is full of them. As you move further up the mountains there’s so many Douglas Firs, you’d think you were one of Santa’s elves.”
“Oh, can I be an elf, Daddy?” Cai chimed in.
Ivy turned in the cradle of his arms.
“I’ve never seen a place so beautiful, Owen.” She beamed up at him, awe in her voice.
“Know just how you feel, sweetheart,” he said, smoothing a few hairs back from her forehead. “Beautiful,” he whispered. Neither of them moved, yet the room seemed to be spinning around them.
“Y’come you keep staring at Ivy, Daddy?”
Ivy’s breath hitched. He recognized the instant the spell was broken.
“Yeah, Daddy,” she smirked, “Why you keep looking?” she teased, placing her empty cup on the counter.
Clearing his throat, Owen took a step back.
“Eat something, Ivy.” He couldn’t bring himself to say “before you leave.”
“That toast is darker than me,” she frowned. “I’ll pass.”
Cai, mouth filled with his piece said, “Daddy said men like their toast bar-b-q.”
Owen felt heat rush to his face. Cai’s reasoning wasn’t meant for public consumption. Ivy regarded him with raised brows.
“Bar-B-Q toast, ah yeah. That’s got to be a violation of some type of commandment, Owen.”
Before he could explain himself, the house phone rang.
“No Limit,” he barked. Delaney sounded frantic on the other end of the line. “Slow down, honey. What’s wrong?”
Owen listened, while frustration bubbled in his gut. He expected late, not absent.
“What’s wrong?” Ivy mouthed.
The now empty coffee cup sat on the counter. A metal slide, then pop sounded in the background. Two slices of toast, golden in their perfection, and slathered with butter and strawberry jam appeared on the table. She cut them into two halves. Cai didn’t need an invitation. His son grabbed the slice and ate greedily. In a surprise move, she walked over to him and held up a slice. Keeping his eyes on her, he grabbed the warm sweetness between his teeth. Her breath hitched and her pupils dilated to frisbies. He listened to Delaney explain that she had injured her wrist in a fall, all the while watching Ivy.
