by Zoe York
Her breath caught shallow in her throat, and his eyes warmed as hers widened.
“Awww, babe. Carrie, my angel…” He shifted his weight to one arm, and cupped her face with his other hand. “What have you got going on in your head?”
“Nothing,” she breathed.
“Liar.”
“I’m not.” She heard the denial spill out of her mouth and wanted to take it back. Wanted to replace it with everything that had been locked in her head for far too long. But sharing would be ugly, and Ian wouldn’t understand. He’d want to, he’d try, but at some point, hearing all of her doubts and ancient thoughts would offend him, and they’d be fighting again, only with a lot more ammunition.
“So you won’t trust me with that, either.”
“I want to.”
“But…”
“I don’t know where to start.” Or how much to share.
As if he could read her mind, his nostrils flared, and he let out a huff of air. “Don’t pick and choose, Carrie. That’s what leads to messed up shit in your head. Trust me with it all.”
“Ian, you’re making this a bigger deal than it is. I don’t have any big secrets from you!” She pressed her face toward his, but he pulled back from her kiss.
“But you’ve got enough doubt and twisted thoughts in there to stop you from coming straight to me when you saw the money missing?”
“I didn’t know… How could I know if that was the right thing to do?”
He leaned in again, eyebrows flared, eyes dark. “Because I’m your husband?”
The words tugged low in her pelvis. Oh, how she wished that was enough. “Husbands do wrong by their wives all the time.”
“I don’t!” He almost shouted the word, and she flinched back. He swore under his breath. “You saw an empty bank account. You heard something out of context, and in that moment, it sounded bad. You reacted. That’s understandable. But you need to listen to me before this goes someplace we can’t get back from.”
He was right. He’d never given her any reason to doubt him. With little to go on, she’d thought the worst. Worse than that, she’d already let herself slip into a position where that was too damn easy. “I’m sorry.” It was weak, but it was something.
Not enough, though. He shook his head slowly, his expression twisting into a grim frown. “No.” He pulled back a few inches and just stared at her, his gaze flickering as he thought about what to say next. She didn’t expect it to be nothing, and let out a sharp gasp as he jerked himself upright, his strong upper body lifting itself into the air.
“Ian, wait—”
“Carrie.” His tone pulled her up short, a warning that she couldn’t quite decipher but a warning nonetheless. Now they were both pissed off, the opposite of what she wanted, and she ached at the loss of his nearness.
The sight of Carrie kneeling on the bed, her face flushed and tear-stained, her heart wounded over nothing but a stupid misunderstanding…it was more than he could handle. More than he could comprehend.
He almost hadn’t come after her.
When he realized she’d called from his mother’s phone, he tried to call back, but she didn’t answer. The landline at his parents’ farm was busy, so he’d hopped on his bike and headed back. His mom called him as he reached the outskirts of town and told him Carrie had left suddenly, and she’d keep the kids overnight if he wanted. She knew more than he did, clearly, as she asked if everything was alright and he’d dumbly told her all was fine.
It fucking was not. Damn it all to hell.
He stepped further back from the bed, needing a bit of room to think. He should just tell her. It was such a stupid misunderstanding.
He softened his voice. “Carrie, I’m the one who should be sorry. I just wanted to take care of you.”
“I don’t want you to take care of me!”
“Non-negotiable, babe. That’s my role.”
“How is keeping me in the dark about money taking care of me?”
Damn. “That’s complicated.”
“No, it’s not.”
“I wrote a cheque. I wasn’t expecting it to clear that quickly.”
Her eyes flashed. He thought that would have been sufficient information, that he wasn’t hording the money in a secret account. He thought wrong. She clenched her fists by her side, shaking as she enunciated each word. “Who did you write a three thousand dollar cheque to, Ian?”
“I promise I’ll tell you soon—”
“Tell me now.” She sat back on her heels and squared her shoulders. Her voice still had a slight waver to it, but bravery had overtaken uncertainty. Fierce and brave, he could handle. Fuck, he should be able to handle it all. He should have seen this coming.
“I’ve let you down.”
“Ian. Now. Money. Where is it?”
“No.” He smiled at the flash in her eyes. “I promise, I’ll show you by the end of the night. But we have some work to do on us before we worry about anything out there.”
Ian couldn’t remember ever rendering his wife speechless before, and he regretted that this was not a moment to savour. A speechless Carrie was pretty entertaining. Her eyes were bright teal today, made so by coloured contacts, another quirky Carrie-ism that made her stand out in any crowd, but especially in Wardham. At this particular moment, they were practically glowing in the afternoon light, a trick of unshed tears and heightened emotions on both their parts, and he wanted nothing more than to cross to her and kiss her fears away.
“Carrie, do you believe me?”
Her eyes narrowed in thought, and she cocked her head to the side. “Yes.”
“So that’s progress.” He lifted his hand waved off her protest. “I’m sorry for asking if you trusted me when I came home. That wasn’t the right moment.”
“I don’t like fighting with you, honey.” She reached her hands out to him and wiggled her fingers.
Habit almost had him accept the gesture, but he caught himself. “Babe, we still need to talk.”
“Can we hug while we do it?” Fuck, there was no way he could say no to that. He did her one better, crossing to the bed and sweeping her up in his arms, then turned and pulled her down to lie in the crook of his arm. He tangled one hand into her hair and stroked her arm lazily with the other.
After savouring the embrace for a minute, he plowed ahead. He didn’t know where to start. “Tell me everything that was going on in your head today.”
She snorted. “That’s an awful lot.”
He shrugged. He’d rehash the grocery list if it would help.
“I was thinking about the night we met.” She took a deep breath. “You were something else.”
Something she hadn’t been looking for. He’d been making up for that for a long time. Maybe she’d never get over it. She was stuck with him, so that was her tough luck.
“You had the sexiest tan lines. They followed the curve of your muscles perfectly, and the rest of you wasn’t lilywhite at all, but your arms…you clearly spent all of your time outside. So the muscles were legit, and you were so comfortable in your skin, it was infectious.”
“Babe, that’s not the problematic part of your thinking.”
“I’m getting there.” She tilted her face up to look him in the eye. “Because I’m about to say something really…harsh, and I want you to know that I was stupid. That I know better now, and I love you, with all of my heart.”
A quick reassurance almost slipped out of his mouth, but they’d done too much glossing over. “Go on.”
“Do you remember our second date?”
“The arts festival, by the river.” She’d bought a hideous painting, and he’d made a dumb-ass comment about it being a waste of money. She almost hadn’t invited him in at the end of the night.
“Let’s just say, the success of that night was entirely achieved in the overnight portion. Which is the only reason there was a third date.” She squirmed against his side.
“And on our third date…” A rush of me
mories flooded over him. “Fuck, on our third date, you told me you thought I wanted six kids and a barefoot and pregnant wife in the kitchen of a ramshackle farmhouse.”
He’d asked her to come see his parents’ farm, and she’d brushed him off. She hadn’t invited him in that night. “I didn’t think you were going to see me again.”
She froze next to him. Ah. The nugget of truth at the heart of the anecdote.
“Carrie,” he put as much love as he could into her name and the words that followed. “Babe, I don’t care how we got here.”
“You wanted to know what I was thinking about.”
“I did. I do.”
“I was re-hashing. How precarious our relationship was in the beginning. Thinking about how we didn’t use condoms the last couple of times we had sex. And how I felt about that. Remembering…”
“How do you feel about it?”
Another deep breath, this one longer than the last. “Anxious.”
“Then why didn’t you say—”
“I don’t know!”
“Yes, you do. Carrie, don’t pretend with me. Not anymore.” He rolled on top of her, wanting to be face-to-face for this conversation. Without an option to run away. He braced himself up on his forearms and stroked her hair. The tender gesture also conveniently pushed her gaze back to his.
“There’s a part of me that will always want your babies, Ian.” She blushed, and he had to stifle a pretty strong caveman reaction because he could guess what was coming next, and he wanted—needed—her to know he understood.
“But you’re done.” She sucked in a breath, and he dipped his head, nudging her nose with his. “You ninny. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because you want six kids and a barefoot and pregnant wife in the kitchen of a ramshackle farmhouse. Because you fell in love with me when Kaylie was born, and I’m worried that as Drew gets older, you’ll regret not having more kids. Resent me for it, and we’ll grow apart.” The floodgates were open, and he’d asked for it, so he couldn’t very well tell her to stop. But he needed to address one important point before she continued.
“Babe, come here.” He rolled to his side and tugged Carrie with him, pulling her into his lap as he sat up against the headboard. He splayed his hands wide around her waist and squeezed. How could she doubt his adoration? Or think for a second that he wasn’t the one who would be begging her not to leave him at some point? There was more that needed to be said. More that should have been said a long time ago. “Do you know why I told you that I thought that painting was ugly?”
She laughed at the memory. “I can’t possibly imagine. That was a really dumb thing to say when I so clearly liked it.”
“Babe, it was awful.”
“Was not.”
“Was too. And I couldn’t imagine where it would go in our ramshackle farmhouse.”
“Seriously, it was cu—” She cut herself off and licked her lips. “What?”
“I forgot that it was our second date. I’d wandered over to the next stall, it sold jewelry or something, and I turned back, and there you were. Glorious and bold and full of life in a way I didn’t know was possible until I met you. You took my breath away, and I knew in that moment that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. I walked over, wrapped my arms around your waist, and you turned to me and said—”
“Isn’t this fantastic?” Carrie whispered, her eyes wide and wet. “And you said, ‘Babe, seriously? I wouldn’t put that in my outhouse.’”
“Not my finest moment.”
“You meant our outhouse.” She was piecing together what he should just come out and say, but the look on her face…he wanted to remember it forever.
“Yeah.” He slid his hands around to her back and traced up her spine, pressing her torso towards his a little bit more with each step of his fingertips. “Date two, angel, and I could see our future so clearly that it didn’t occur to me to be nice about the painting.”
“How have I never known this?” She whispered the question against his lips, and instead of answering, he pressed a hot, hungry kiss against her mouth and was rewarded with a happy little sigh.
“I was distracted, but I wasn’t stupid. I knew you weren’t as into me as I was…well, and then when you got pregnant, I thought I’d have a battle on my hands getting you to marry me. Even when you agreed, I knew we weren’t doing it for the same reasons. And then we had more important things to worry about.”
“And when you offered me a divorce?”
“I told myself I just wanted you to be happy. That was a total lie, by the way.” He nipped at her bottom lip, and she parted for him. Always so willing. His heart swelled. “I wasn’t done convincing you to love me. I don’t know what I would have done if you’d said yes to a divorce, but it wouldn’t have been pretty.”
“I already loved you, you know.” She eased back to look him in the eye. “I don’t know when it happened, but at some point over that awful summer, you took up permanent residence in my heart.”
“Why did you think I didn’t love you until Kaylie was born?” Her tongue had darted out to lick her lips a few times, and he was getting distracted from his original purpose. Focus.
“You didn’t say it until that night in the hospital.” Her words smacked him in the chest like a two-by-four. That couldn’t be right. His disbelief must have scrawled across his face in neon letters, because she shrugged. “It’s not a big deal.”
As carefully as he could, given the itchy panic crawling rapidly through his chest, he flipped her over to her back and dragged his hands to her face. “Babe, it’s a big deal. I love you. I love you to the moon and back, and all that crap we tell the kids. I love you so much it hurts when I don’t get home for fucking dinner. I’ve loved you since our second date, and I’ve wasted eight years of not telling you. That’s part of what’s been creeping through your head, isn’t it?”
She shook her head against his hands. “No.”
“Truth, babe.”
“I know you love me.”
“But?”
She shrugged. “But nothing. You show me that you love me, and that’s enough.”
He lowered himself over her like a blanket and buried his face in her neck. “You deserve more than that.”
Her lips moved against his temple, her breath warm and soft. “I have more than I ever dreamed possible.”
“You don’t have Europe.”
“We’ll get there some day. Maybe when we retire.” She laughed. “Who am I kidding? You’ll never retire. Maybe Drew will take over the farm one day. Or maybe Kaylie will like to travel, and we can leave you boys behind. Or I could go on my own once Drew is in school—ooof!” Carrie rubbed her stomach where he’d shouldered her in his haste to jump off the bed.
“Sorry, babe. Get up, we’re going for a ride.”
“Ian, what’s going on?”
He grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the door, scooping up his boots on the way. “It’s time for me to show you what I should have just told you about in the first place.”
Chapter Five
It wasn’t easy dragging her away from a big bed in an empty house, but there would be time for hot make-up sex later. Right now, they had one final secret to deal with.
When was the last time she’d been on the back of his bike? Too long. On the weekend, he’d make time for them to go on a ride together. See the fall colours. Whatever. Just have her legs wrapped around his hips, her breasts pressed into his back, for more than the two minute hop into town. This was going to be a tease, but a worthwhile one.
He pulled out his phone to text Evan then thought better of it. Both West brothers would be at work. Which was a sweet ride to the far side of town and back. Even better.
When she stepped out of the house, decked out in snug faded jeans tucked into knee-high leather boots and a curve-hugging white nylon jacket that managed to zip up to her neck and still show off her gorgeous rack, he was tempted to abandon the plan and slide right
back inside for the rest of the afternoon. Inside the house. Inside Carrie.
Instead, he satisfied his base urges with a low wolf-whistle, and he didn’t bother telling his chubby to go away. She shot him a shy smile that turned not so shy as she gave him her own once over and lingered on his growing erection.
“Looking forward to taking me for a ride?” Her wide eyes looked innocent, but he knew better.
“Don’t tease me, Carrie, or I’ll have you back inside and naked in less than a minute.” His strut was partially put on, but the rush and confusion of the day’s events had him on edge. He had something to prove, to himself and Carrie, and he was going to do it in a way that left no doubt. About his feelings, or his role in her life.
“I’m not teasing. Much. It’s just you look...” She trailed off with a grin. He felt it too, a hum of energy between them. “You look good. All long legs and tough-guy leather.”
He widened his stance as she took two sauntering steps into his personal space. Not that he wouldn’t gladly share it with her. What’s mine is hers, in every way. Which reminded him that they needed to go but not before he savoured the feel of her body pressed against his, her warm, wet mouth softening against his. The taste of excitement on her lips. He tugged her hair gently then gave her one final kiss before sliding his leg over the bike and gesturing for her to join him.
Go West Winery was past the bluffs on the east end of town. It had originally been built as an estate, and the vines a hobby, but Ty and Evan West had picked it up for a song after it had been abandoned. They’d just finished building a new main hall, with a tasting room, space for formal events, offices, and a large scale production wing. The original estate buildings were at the far end of the property, currently being used as a bachelor pad by the brothers, but Kyle had told him that the next phase of expansion was to hire someone to run the mansion as an inn.
There weren’t a lot of cars in the lot, but he recognized Evan’s SUV, and put down his kick stand. He could feel Carrie’s confusion radiating against his back, but he wasn’t going to give her a chance to pin him down. She eased off the bike first, then he joined her, but before she could say anything, he traced his index finger up her zipper and tapped on her chin before resting it against her lips. “Contain yourself, babe. Wait here, I'll be right back.”
