Make Me Yours: The Bellamy Creek Series

by Harlow, Melanie

  “Yes,” she said. Then she threw her arms around me. “Have a good day, Miss Cheyenne.”

  I patted her shoulder. “You too, sweetie.”

  Then she rushed out, saying to her friends, “She’s my dad’s girlfriend now. They’re probably gonna get married.”

  “Lucky!” one of them replied.

  I laughed, but it was easy for me to see how Cole might have suffered a bit from whiplash if he’d been expecting any objections from her. She clearly had none.

  While I was eating lunch at my desk, I got a text from him.

  Cole: Run away with me.

  Me: Right now?

  Cole: Yes. To the new house. I have the key for a few hours.

  Me: I can’t get there until four at the soonest.

  Cole: But Moretti will be here by then, and you’ll want to have your clothes back on.

  Me: That is a definite yes. But I’d still love to come by after school.

  Cole: Do it.

  He gave me the address and I told him I’d be there by four o’clock. Then I asked him if he wanted me to bring Mariah along.

  My phone vibrated with a call from him, and I answered it.

  “Hey,” I said. “I just have a few minutes before the kids come in from recess.”

  “No fair, they get you all day.”

  I laughed. “So should I bring Mariah with me to the house?”

  “I’m sure she’d love that. I’ll let my mom know she won’t be on the bus and call the school as well. They’ll get a note to her to go to your classroom after the bell. Does that work?”

  “That’s perfect. We’ll see you at four.”

  “Can’t wait. I love you.”

  I smiled, knowing I would never get tired of hearing him say those words, or saying them back. “I love you too.”

  * * *

  After school, Mariah came to my room and we headed over to the new house. She babbled nonstop on the drive about how excited she was to move in, what color she might paint her room, and the bunk beds her dad had let her pick out online.

  “They won’t be delivered until January, but Daddy says that’s okay because we probably won’t be able to move in much before that anyway. There’s lots of work that needs to be done.”

  I parked in front of the house behind a white pickup and Enzo’s SUV. As Mariah and I made our way up the walk toward the old brick house with a white wraparound porch, I couldn’t help smiling. It was gorgeous all covered with snow, but I could imagine it in the spring with tulips and daffodils in the beds by the porch and green leaves on the towering weeping willow to one side. Cole came out the front door and waved.

  Mariah ran the rest of the way, racing up the steps to stand next to him so she could welcome me. “This is the porch,” she said as I approached.

  “The porch that needs a new coat of paint,” Cole added.

  “I love it,” I said.

  “Daddy says we can get some rocking chairs and maybe even a swing.” She looked at him. “Right?”

  “Right.”

  “That sounds heavenly. I love reading a book on the porch in summertime.” I climbed the steps, and Cole kissed my cheek.

  “How was your day?” he asked, opening the front door.

  “Good. Yours?”

  He shrugged. “The estimate for the renovation is getting a little scary, but Moretti seems to think we can keep it down by using some repurposed materials and doing some labor ourselves.”

  “That’s good,” I said, entering the front hall with a gasp. “Oh, Cole.” Wide-eyed, I looked around at the high ceilings, wood floors, and natural light pouring in the windows surrounding the door. I put a hand over my heart. “This is beautiful.”

  He shut the door behind us. “Not yet, but it will be. Come in, and we’ll show you around.”

  Mariah led the way into the living room, where I was charmed by the fireplace, the tall windows, and what I could see of the parquet floor, revealed where someone had pulled back the musty old carpet. In the dining room, I admired the bay window and antique chandelier, which Cole hated but Mariah thought was fancy. In the kitchen, I said hello to Enzo and smiled at another guy, who was kneeling on the floor with a tape measure extended across the room.

  “Cheyenne, this is Kevin Dodson. He’s going to be doing most of the kitchen remodel. Kevin, this is my girlfriend, Cheyenne Dempsey.”

  Already on my way to shake Kevin’s hand, I nearly fell to the floor in a dead faint when I heard the word girlfriend.

  I was Cole Mitchell’s girlfriend! How was that even possible?

  I practically floated upstairs, where Mariah flitted from room to room, chirping about which one was hers, which one was her dad’s, and which room could be the baby’s.

  “Baby?” Enzo’s eyebrows shot up and he looked from me to Cole to my stomach. “Is there something I don’t know?”

  Cole rolled his eyes. “Yes. My daughter is crazy.”

  “There’s no baby,” I said, laughing.

  But later, when Enzo and Mariah were heading back downstairs, Cole tugged my hand and pulled me back into his bedroom for a kiss.

  It was a deep, long, passionate kiss that made my heart race, my toes tingle, and my stomach muscles tighten. His hands traveled over my back and down to my ass.

  “Cole, stop.” Breathless, I looked over my shoulder at the doorway. “What if she comes back up?”

  “I don’t care. This is my room.”

  “But she might—”

  He reached behind me and slammed the door. “There. Feel better?”

  I started to laugh, but then his mouth was on mine once more, and I couldn’t think about anything but his kiss. Pretty soon, his breathing grew heavier and he backed me up against the door. I could feel his erection against my belly as he moved against me. Even though I knew it was a bad idea, I reached between us and rubbed it through his jeans, making him groan.

  Giggling, I took my hand off him. “Sorry. I couldn’t help it. Should we go downstairs?”

  “I need a minute.” He pushed himself back from me, his arms braced on either side of my head. “I wish we had more time.”

  “Soon.” I smiled. “Tell me what you’ll do with this room. New paint? A rug? A big new bed?”

  “I’m open to suggestions. Tell me what will entice you to come over a lot.”

  “Hmmm.” I ducked beneath his arms and studied the room. “Are there wood floors beneath this carpet?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’d rip out all the carpet and polish up the floors. Get a great big bed with a fluffy down comforter, and put a cozy rug beneath it. Over by the fireplace, I’d put another rug and maybe a couple chairs. And over there . . .” I pointed to the big window overlooking the yard. “I’d put in a window seat with lots of pillows.”

  “A window seat, huh?”

  “Yes. And that’s where I will sit with my mug of tea and a romance novel, wrapped in a fuzzy blanket with a scented candle lit beside me.”

  He wrapped his arms around me from behind. “You expect me to build a window seat so you can come here and read a book? That’s not what I had in mind.”

  I laughed, placing my hands on his forearms. “I didn’t say a window seat would be more enticing than you by the fireplace or you in that great big bed. But one of my dreams is to have a quiet place to read where I’m surrounded by books and natural light.”

  “Oh.” He exhaled. “Then I guess I have to build it for you.”

  Turning in his embrace to face him, I slipped my arms around his waist and smiled up at him. “You don’t have to build anything for me. You’re the best dream I’ve ever had, and you’re already right here.”

  “But I like doing things for you. And I feel like I wasted so much time trying not to fall for you, I want to make up for it.”

  “We’re not in a rush, Cole. This is the real thing, remember? It’s not going anywhere. And no one can take it from us.”

  For a fleeting second, a shadow crossed his face.<
br />
  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  “Nothing.” He pulled me close, tucking my head beneath his chin, and we stayed that way for a moment. And then from below, we heard Mariah shrieking with laughter.

  “Moretti always makes her laugh,” said Cole. “She loves him.”

  “What female doesn’t?” I joked.

  “Actually, believe it or not, I recently met a woman from his past who seems to be immune to his charms.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yes. She’s an interior designer. Bianca DeRossi.”

  Gasping, I tipped my head back and looked up at him. “I know her! She’s in my book club. So she’s the one woman who can resist him, huh?”

  “She’s the one.”

  “I’ll have to ask her why sometime.” Then I sighed. “I guess we better go back downstairs, huh?”

  “I guess.”

  Hand in hand, we left the master bedroom. When we passed the other bedrooms on our way to the steps, Cole pointed to one and said, “Should we check on the baby?”

  I laughed. “Is it a boy or a girl?”

  “A sister, of course. No brothers allowed.”

  “Do you think she’ll like pancakes for dinner?”

  “I mean, who wouldn’t?”

  At the bottom of the stairs, he turned to face me. Everyone else was in the kitchen, but he still spoke quietly. “You know, a year ago—hell, a month ago—if anyone had asked me if I saw myself having more kids, I’d have said no fucking way.”

  I held my breath. “And now?”

  He hesitated, almost like he wasn’t quite sure how to put it. “Now there’s you.”

  My throat tightened. “Now there’s us.”

  “Yes. Now there’s us.”

  I shook my head. “I can’t even believe we’re having this conversation. It’s like suddenly finding yourself at the all-you-can-eat buffet of your wildest dreams.”

  Laughing, he squeezed my hand. “I want to make all your dreams come true. If I can.”

  My eyes misted over. “You know what? Today was a pretty good start.”

  Twenty-Three

  Cole

  The day after I took Cheyenne through the house, I called Moretti and asked if he had Bianca DeRossi’s contact information.

  “Why do you need it?”

  “Because she’s an interior designer and I have some questions about the interior of the house.”

  “Ask me. I have good taste.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Just give me her number please.”

  “I don’t have it.” Heavy sigh. “But I could probably get it.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Or you could just try 1-800-HELLCAT. I bet she’d answer.”

  “Could you just get the number please?”

  “Fine,” he muttered. “Are you off work again today? What are you up to?”

  “Yeah. I’m just getting shit done, ordering some furniture. I want to hit the paint store for some samples later—”

  “Don’t buy anything yet. I get a discount.”

  “Want to meet me there?”

  “What time?”

  I checked my watch. “Can you go now? I have to be over at the school before three-thirty.”

  “Why? Doesn’t Mariah take the bus home?”

  “It’s not for Mariah. It’s for Cheyenne. It’s been snowing all day and I want to scrape off her car. She mentioned yesterday how much she hates doing that in her work clothes.”

  Moretti started to laugh.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “Dude,” he said. “You’re a mess.”

  “Fuck off.”

  “Hey, I’m kidding. So things are going well, huh?”

  “Yeah,” I said, ignoring that icy little sliver of doubt that kept trying to get under my skin. “They’re going great.”

  “Told you there was nothing to worry about.”

  I had to laugh. “Are you serious? That’s not what you said at all.”

  “What did I say?”

  “You said I could totally fuck it up and things could always go wrong.”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  “Which did not exactly inspire confidence. Thankfully, I ignored you.”

  “Then my advice is to keep on ignoring me. Somehow, I’m helping. I’m sure of it.”

  * * *

  After I took care of Cheyenne’s car, I got out of there quickly so she wouldn’t catch me.

  She called me around four o’clock. I was sitting at the kitchen table, waiting for Mariah to get home.

  “Hello?”

  “Cole Mitchell! Did you do this?”

  “What?” I couldn’t keep a grin off my face.

  “My car! I was so grumpy, expecting to come out and find it all covered with snow, but it was totally cleaned off!”

  “You must have a secret admirer,” I told her.

  “Well, it was the best thing ever. Please tell him he’s the perfect man.”

  “Come on, nobody’s perfect.”

  “You don’t know him like I do,” she insisted. “I’m telling you. He’s perfect.”

  I grinned. “Go on.”

  “He’s gorgeous and sweet and generous. He makes me laugh, he’s the best dad ever, and everyone who knows him says what a great guy he is.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Plus,” she went on, lowering her voice, “he’s an incredible kisser, he’s good with his hands, and as an added bonus, he has a huge dick and knows how to use it.”

  I felt like thumping my chest. “Good for him.”

  “I’m madly in love with him,” she said. “I always have been, always will be.”

  “Frankly, I’m not sure he deserves you,” I told her. “What makes you think he can make you happy?”

  She laughed. “Some things, you just know.”

  * * *

  The following day, Wednesday, Moretti shared Bianca DeRossi’s contact information with me. At least, I assumed it was Bianca’s. He had her first and last name as Witchy Vixen. After shooting him a quick thanks, I saved her info—under the correct name—and gave her a call after work.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi, Bianca?”

  “This is she.”

  “Hey, this is Cole Mitchell. I’m a friend of Enzo Moretti’s and we met—”

  “Of course! How are you, Cole?”

  “Good. How are you?”

  “Doing great, thanks. How’s the house coming along?”

  “That’s actually what I’d like to talk to you about. I wondered if you might be able to give me some advice on the master bedroom. Specifically, I’d like to put in a window seat. Maybe some bookshelves.”

  “Ooh, how nice. Are you a reader?”

  “It’s actually for my girlfriend.”

  “Even better.”

  I smiled. “I think you might know her—Cheyenne Dempsey.”

  “Of course I do! She’s in my book club. I love Cheyenne.”

  “Me too. This is a secret project, though. I don’t want her to know I’m doing it.”

  “My lips are sealed. This is so sweet, Cole. I didn’t realize you two were a couple.”

  “Well, it’s still kind of new,” I said. “But it’s serious. We’ve known each other forever.”

  She sighed. “So romantic. And I promise, we will design you a book nook that will make Cheyenne lose her mind. She’ll never want to leave your new house.”

  I laughed. “Good.”

  “This isn’t a Christmas present, is it? Because I don’t think we’ll be able to get it done in time.”

  “No, I don’t close until the twenty-ninth, and I won’t move in until after the first. I don’t even own any furniture yet. We’ve been living with my mother since Mariah’s mom died, so . . .”

  “I understand. And I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “Thank you.” I tried to lighten the mood. “It’s been nine years. You’d think I’d have at least a couch by now.”

  She laughed politely. �
��We’ll fix you right up. I’m not that busy in January, and I’d love to help you out. I have a lot of good contacts in Chicago and around here too—why don’t you let me help you?”

  “I’d love that, but I’m not sure I can afford you.”

  “I’ll consider it a favor. How’s that?”

  “Really? I don’t mean you’ll have to work for nothing, just that I—”

  “I’m positive we can work it out. Who knows? I might need your help with something in the future.”

  “Just say the word,” I told her. “I’d be glad to return the favor.”

  “Perfect. Let’s look at the calendar and set up a time to look at your new house.”

  My new house. I loved the sound of that.

  And it wasn’t just a new house to me—it was the start of a new life.

  Maybe it wasn’t the life that I’d originally planned, but it was a good life, a beautiful life, one that I would give my all to build, to cherish, to protect.

  I breathed deeply, my body relaxed, my heart full. Maybe Cheyenne was right and I didn’t need to worry so much. Maybe there was no dragon. Maybe that shadow behind me was gone. Maybe the best really was yet to come, all I had to do was keep moving toward it.

  But it was hard not to look back.

  Twenty-Four

  Cheyenne

  “Finally!” Blair turned the sign in her bakery window to CLOSED and locked the door. “I thought those people would never leave, and I’m dying to talk to you. How’s everything going?”

  “Great.” I was sitting at one of the little round café tables along one wall with a cup of tea and an uneaten pastry. “Everything is great.”

  It was late Friday afternoon—a week had gone by since the night Cole had told Mariah about us and said he loved me.

  Blair poured herself a cup of coffee and came and sat down across from me. “Things are great? How come I don’t entirely believe you?”

  “I don’t know.” I took a sip of tea.

  “Out with it,” she demanded. “I know that look on your face.”

  “What are you talking about? I swear, I could not be happier.”