by Jill Gregory
“Do you always overthink everything?” Amusement tinged his voice. “You didn’t when you were fifteen.”
“I’ve changed a lot since I was fifteen. In case you haven’t noticed.” She tipped her head back, almost dizzy, and stared up into that wickedly handsome face she’d fallen in love with when she was a completely different person, a foolish young girl, knowing nothing of the world.
And listening only to the wildness of her heart.
One kiss. Get him out of your system....
“I need to think. I should think, but I don’t want to,” she murmured suddenly. His midnight eyes lit with surprise—and laughter. She grasped his shirt front, yanked him closer. “Don’t let me think, Rafe. I’m so damned tired of thinking. And I don’t want to—not right now.”
Rafe didn’t need to be asked twice, having been brought up to oblige a lady.
His mouth brushed hers. Gently at first, then the kiss deepened as her lips parted, welcoming him, no, beckoning him, and he lost himself in the musky sweetness of her. It was a kiss of rose petals and dynamite. Softness and sex.
Her mouth was hot, willing, delectable. The peachsweet taste and scent of her filled him, and a dark heat spread through him, wild as a mountain fire. When her arms encircled his neck, Rafe gripped her closer, angled his hips against hers, and slipped his tongue deeper inside her mouth.
He was met with a whimper of pleasure and a ferocious sweep of her tongue against his. She melted against him, and everything else faded away—the kitchen, the smell of fresh coffee, the solid old ranch house where they stood together in a whirlwind of heat.
He deepened the kiss, his hands roving over her body, slipping beneath her sweater. Inside her low-cut bra to cup her breast. She moaned in pleasure and he pushed her backward then, pressing her against the wall.
And that’s when he heard the car door slam.
Sophie heard it at the same time. The sound ripped her from a daze of exploding pleasure so intense she could barely focus, but that thudding door, and one quick bark from Tidbit, had her cursing fate and shoving him away.
The sound of her mother’s voice reached her . . . and then she heard Mr. Hartigan. Gravel crunched—a car was backing out of Daisy Lane....
Why hadn’t she heard it coming down the lane?
Never mind, she knew why.
“Oh, God.” She yanked her sweater down, pressed her hands to her hot cheeks. With a low groan, Rafe made a beeline for the kitchen chair as the front door opened with a faint creak.
“Sophie?” As her mother sailed into the kitchen, Rafe stood up, as casual as if he’d been stopping by for years at the McPhees’ to chat on a daily basis.
“Oh. Rafe.” She stared at him in surprise. “You know, I thought that looked like your truck.”
“Nice to see you, Ms. McPhee.”
Diana glanced between Sophie and Rafe for three long beats, which made Sophie’s nerves jangle, but her mother didn’t say anything else, except to ask Rafe how Ivy was doing.
That’s when Sophie trusted her voice enough to fill her in about Lissie spending most of the day at the hospital.
“But she and the baby are okay? Will she be up for the shower next Saturday?” She turned to Sophie, who was now pouring coffee into Rafe’s mug. “Perhaps you and Mia should consider postponing it.”
“She doesn’t want anything postponed, Mom. And you know, Lissie. Once she makes up her mind, there’s no changing it. Besides, the doctor says she’ll be fine. Would you like some coffee?”
“At this hour? No, I’m going on up to bed. But where’s your Blazer, Sophie?”
“Languishing on Squirrel Road. Waiting to hitch a ride with a tow truck.”
It was Rafe who explained about the flat tires. Sophie could barely concentrate enough to remember to turn off the coffeemaker. Her lips still felt hot, and her entire body was jangling with sensation.
“Four flat tires?” Her mother frowned. “That’s very strange.”
“It was just some kid, pulling a prank, Mom.”
“A pretty serious prank, if you ask me. Rafe, it’s lucky you happened along.”
“Always happy to help a lady.”
Diana looked from one to the other of them. She suddenly turned toward the stairs. “Time for me to turn in. Good night, Rafe, Sophie. See you in the morning, dear,” she added.
When her mother had disappeared upstairs, Sophie closed her eyes and sagged back against the counter.
When she opened them, Rafe was watching her, a grin on his face. He looked unruffled, handsomer than sin, and completely at ease.
“That was close,” he said.
“You think this is funny?”
“Don’t you?”
Not one bit. She had to break loose from the spell he’d cast over her, and she quickly moved away, gathering the coffee cups, bringing them to the sink.
Rafe had barely touched his coffee. He’d only touched her. The trouble was, she wanted him to touch her again. Touch her more . . .
“Shannon’s folks will be dropping Ivy off soon.” He sounded regretful. “I need to be home when she gets there. But for the record”—he moved close to her and lowered his voice—“that was some kiss.” He couldn’t help grinning at her. “I guess now we’re even.”
“Hardly.” It took all of Sophie’s willpower not to look away from those dangerous blue eyes that had the power to mesmerize her. “I can’t believe you brought that up. Or even that you remember.”
“Believe it. You’re pretty unforgettable.”
Rafe Tanner was flirting with her.
Sophie fought the urge to throw caution to the winds, twine her arms around his neck, and kiss him again. To seize his hand and run with him out to his truck. Or into the night.
And to do what? Strip off her clothes, then his? Have wild monkey sex with him beneath the stars?
She was crazy. She’d finally done it, she’d lost her mind.
“This isn’t happening,” she said suddenly, panic rushing through her. She managed to speak calmly, though the way he was looking at her was setting her blood on fire. “I mean it, Rafe. We shouldn’t do this—whatever this is. We have to forget what happened tonight.”
“I’m not sure I can do that.” His eyes glinted as he brushed a strand of hair from her face, studying her in silence. “Can you?”
“Yes.” She said it too quickly though. He pulled her closer.
“I don’t believe you.”
“You should.”
She stared into his eyes for a long moment. Rafe brushed his knuckles gently along her cheek.
“I won’t push you, Sophie. You decide when—if—you want to do this—any of this—again.” That heart-stopping grin that spread upward to light his eyes made her heart start to race. “But I can promise I’m going to try like hell to convince you.”
Without another word, he walked out of the kitchen. She heard the gentle thud of the front door.
Chapter Eleven
Early the next morning, Sophie called for a tow truck. Then she let Tidbit out, poured herself a mug of coffee, and decided to go in search of her mother.
She carried the steaming mug with her as she stepped outside into a sharply cool day, which felt more like September than late August. But she barely noticed the chill as she made her way toward the old barn, now her mother’s workroom.
Sure enough, her mom was there as she’d been most mornings, bent over her worktable, safety glasses engulfing most of her face as she drilled holes in hollow copper tubing. But she paused as Sophie entered, then set the drill and tubing down on the work surface crammed with hanging metal chains, drill bits, pliers, a wire cutter, glue, and a basket filled with glorious bits of stained glass, rose quartz, amethyst, shells, and beads of every color.
“Sorry to interrupt, Mom.”
“Sophie? What is it?” Her mother lifted the safety glasses off and set them down.
“We need to talk.” Sophie spoke quietly. “If you want me to, I ca
n come back later, but . . . isn’t it time for us to clear the air?”
“I’d say it’s past time.” Her mother came around the worktable, then leaned against it. “Let me start. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you right away about Doug. What’s that expression? He who hesitates, is lost.”
Sophie moved closer, past the old wooden shelving where wind chimes were displayed on tiny hooks. “You don’t have to apologize. You’re free to date whoever you want.”
Ted Bundy. Son of Sam. Doug Hartigan.
“What I don’t understand, Mom, is why you want him. You can do a whole lot better. I bet Gran and Martha and Dorothy can make up an entire list.”
Her mother’s mouth twisted into a wry smile. “You don’t know Doug,” she said softly. “At least you don’t know the man I do.”
Moving forward, she snagged Sophie’s arm. “Why don’t we go back to the house? I could use some coffee myself.”
When they were seated at the kitchen table with toast, cherry jam, and coffee, and Tidbit was noisily scarfing down his kibble, Diana looked Sophie squarely in the eye.
“I know you’ll find this hard to believe, but Doug Hartigan is a good man. He’s kind and he’s intelligent. He tells dumb jokes, but they make me laugh. And you’ll never believe this, but he plays the violin—beautifully. Math and music skills are closely linked, you know. You should hear him play sometime.”
Sophie’s fingers tightened on her mug. She wasn’t about to dignify that with an answer.
“Sophie, you’re not the same girl that you were back in high school,” her mother pointed out with a shake of her head. “And Doug isn’t the same man he was when he was your teacher either. He’s been through some terrible things. He’s different now than he was back then.”
Sophie picked up a slice of toast, then set it down on the plate, no longer hungry. “What sorts of things?”
“His wife was sick. She had brain cancer. Since they lived in Timber Springs and Doug drove in every day just to teach at Lonesome Way High School, not a lot of people here knew him well, or had any idea what he was going through. His wife’s surgeries, chemo, hospitalizations. They had no children, it was just the two of them. And he loved her very much. It was a horrible time for him, Sophie.”
As Sophie started to speak, her mother interrupted. “I know, I know, it’s not an excuse for how hard he was on you—and you’re not the only one he treated that way. Doug has told me there were a half dozen students whose parents complained about him. He admits he was unfair, that he demanded too much. Especially from students who were struggling.”
“Well, it’s taken him long enough, hasn’t it?” Sophie kept her voice level but still felt a twinge of remorse as her mother’s gaze fell on her, looking chagrined.
“He’s the first to admit he went overboard. He couldn’t control what was happening in his own life—knowing he was losing Mary. But he thought he could control his classroom, the knowledge he was trying to impart to his students. And he took it much too far. He’s retired now, you know.”
“Making the school safe once again for Lonesome Way’s teenagers.”
“Sophie.”
She sighed, reined in her anger, and took a breath.
“I’m trying to understand this, Mom. I really am.”
Tidbit trotted over, looking up at her hopefully, and she scratched his ears. He rewarded her by looking at her with adoring dark eyes and relentlessly licking her arm.
Why couldn’t love between humans be as simple as between a human and a dog?
Sophie read the distress in her mother’s face. “What do you want me to say? I don’t like the man and I don’t trust him, but it’s your choice, Mom.” She took a breath. “I guess I can handle it. It’s not as if you’re marrying him anytime soon.”
“N-no.” Her mother’s cheeks flushed. “Not anytime soon.”
Whoa. Sophie stared at her. “So . . . he was telling the truth? This is serious? You’re actually thinking about marriage?”
“Who’s to say what’s serious these days?” Her mother flushed a deeper shade of pink and took a quick gulp of coffee. “But you should know, we are going on a little trip together. There’s a crafts show coming up in Helena. Doug’s coming with me, to help me sell my wind chimes and some of my beaded purses and jewelry. We’ll only be gone a few nights,” she added quickly. As she watched Sophie for a reaction, her gaze was guarded but hopeful. “You . . . won’t mind?”
Sophie bit back the truth. Yes, she damn well minded. What was wrong with her mother? The most grounded, sensible, practical woman she knew was making a terrible mistake.
“It’s your life,” she said at last, trying her best to hide the dismay flooding her. “Just . . . be careful.”
It struck her even as she said the words that she should heed her own advice.
She’d slept fitfully, waking often in the dark quiet of the night, remembering every moment with Rafe in the kitchen last night.
The touch of his hands, the heat of his lips on hers. She couldn’t believe she’d let things go so far—or that she’d wanted them to go further.
What happened to not getting involved with any man again? Not risking her heart?
She knew that theoretically she could have sex with someone without giving her heart away. She just wasn’t sure she was built that way. Or that she could pull that off with Rafe Tanner.
Having a fling with Rafe would be far too risky, since she obviously hadn’t completely outgrown her adolescent fantasies about him.
Be smart, she told herself.
She tried not to think of those long, deep kisses, his hot tongue sliding along hers, whipping up sensations she’d thought were dead. Of the fire that had ignited inside her when he slid his hand beneath her sweater and cupped her breast . . .
She’d thought she’d melt. Or explode. No. She had to stay away from Rafe. He could ruin everything, destroy all her careful control, break down her walls with a kiss or a touch.
The man was just too damned dangerous.
She had to stay away.
“This job—Ms. McPhee, it would mean the world to me.” Karla Sommers’ afraid-to-hope gaze was pinned to Sophie’s face.
They were seated on chairs in the bakery kitchen while Sam and Denny were on lunch break. The little boy Sophie had seen with Karla in Roy’s Diner that first day was rolling a battered toy truck back and forth across the floor.
“Go fast, twuck!” he yelled, and Karla quietly shushed him.
“I’m sorry. He likes to talk. And yell. And run.”
Sophie laughed. “No problem. What little boy doesn’t? Tell me about your experience. Ever worked in a bakery before?”
It turned out, Karla had worked in a neighborhood bakery for three years when she was first married. The divorce had been a difficult one, and afterward her ex-husband had taken off for a job in Oregon, leaving no forwarding address and skipping out on his child-support payments.
“And you’ve also had waitressing experience at the Double Cross,” Sophie mused, as Austin screamed “Cwash!”
The truck banged into the wall and fell over, wheels spinning as the little boy dove for it, shrieking.
“Sorry.” Karla hurried to the boy and picked him up, trying to quiet him.
“No problem. He’s just being a kid. I bet he’ll love being with others his age when he’s back in daycare.”
“You’re really going to hire me?” Karla looked like she was holding her breath, afraid to smile, afraid it might not be true. Sophie nodded, feeling almost as satisfied as she did when she pulled a pan of warm cinnamon rolls from the oven.
“I’ll need you to start on Monday at eight A.M.”
Sam and Denny returned just as Karla and Austin were leaving. Denny held the door for them, then picked up Austin’s truck and handed it back to him after the little boy dropped it right outside the bakery.
Sophie noticed Denny’s face turn red as Karla thanked him. His cheeks were still flushed when he came
inside.
“Do you guys know Karla Sommers and her son?” Sophie asked.
“Well, don’t exactly know her, just seen her around,” Sam replied, heading toward his tool kit.
“She’s waited on me at the Double Cross a few times,” Denny mumbled. Sophie remembered that Denny had never been married. He’d been shy growing up and had rarely dated in high school—or after, as far as she knew.
“I just hired her to work here. She’s going to give her notice at the Double Cross,” Sophie told both of them. She saw Denny register the information, and then turn, his big shoulders hunched as he watched Karla and her son disappear around the corner.
She caught herself smiling and closed her eyes. What was wrong with her? If she wasn’t careful, she’d turn into Gran and Martha and Dorothy.
The one thing Lonesome Way definitely didn’t need was one more matchmaker.
Chapter Twelve
The morning of the baby shower, Ivy chose her outfit carefully.
She slipped on her pale green and yellow print baby doll dress and her cutest flats, fluffed her hair, then swiped on a touch of the lip gloss she’d bought yesterday with Shannon and Val at Benson’s Drugstore.
She’d picked the shiny raspberry gloss, Shannon had chosen whipped strawberry, and Val bought the sweet berry fusion.
Studying herself in her bedroom mirror, she thought she looked okay, but not great. She wished her boobs would start growing already, like Shannon’s had. And she wished her chin wasn’t so baby round, and that she was shorter by at least three inches. She bet she was already taller than nearly all the boys in her grade. Including Nate. Last year she’d been the same height as everyone else, but this year she was going to tower over them like some stupid giant.
Her stomach hurt just thinking about school.
Think about the shower, she told herself. School doesn’t start until Monday. And today will be fun.
Not only would she get to help unwrap the baby gifts and see all the cute presents for her new cousin, she’d finally have the chance to taste Sophie’s famous cinnamon buns, the ones Aunt Liss had been raving about ever since Ivy could remember.
