by Kaitlyn Rice
Ella had never taken to Ethan. Callie had avoided bringing him home for almost a year. When she had, Ella hadn’t been pleased to hear that her oldest daughter was in love and planning to marry at nineteen.
After they were married, Ella had softened only slightly. Ethan didn’t think Callie had ever told her mother that they were having trouble. She hadn’t told her sisters, either, presumably until after he’d left. She’d wanted to make her own choices without her mother’s influence, and she hadn’t wanted her sisters to buy into Ella’s thoughts about men. Even though she’d believed them herself.
“What are you two up to?” Isabel asked, smiling. “Did you do something tricky?”
“Nope,” Josie said. “Ethan had an idea.”
“Uh-oh.” After leaning her broom against the wall, Isabel rested her hands on her hips. “Well, what is it?” she asked good-humoredly, as if she expected them to describe a prank of some kind.
“Pizza,” Ethan said. “I want to buy you ladies a pizza, that’s all.”
No look of interest changed Isabel’s tired expression. She glanced around her kitchen, and Ethan saw what she must be seeing. The tile hadn’t been installed, the cabinets were gone and her table was quite obviously missing.
“Where would we eat?” she asked, sounding distressed. “My plates are packed in the attic.”
That was right. Isabel loved to play hostess, didn’t she? She wouldn’t view his offer as a source of food. She’d worry about ensuring her guests’ comfort. “We could have it delivered to Josie’s place,” Ethan said, shrugging.
“But Callie’s there,” Isabel said, blue eyes wide.
“I know.” He chuckled.
Isabel gazed at Josie, her eyes narrowed. “She might not want pizza,” she said in a precise tone.
Protecting Callie again. She must not know about that sunny day at the park, when he and Callie had reclaimed their friendship. “If she does, I’ll share,” Ethan said, ignoring another silent Blume battle. “She likes the same kind I do. I don’t see a problem.”
“I feel bad about not feeding you,” Isabel said.
“Don’t. Pizza sounds good.”
Isabel glared at Josie, who returned the look. They acted very much like the two teenagers to whom he’d once offered secret driving lessons: tempted, but thinking hard about the consequences should their mother find out.
They were making this a bigger decision than it needed to be. He’d only offered to buy them dinner.
“All right,” Isabel said, apparently deciding that the reward was worth the risk. Whatever that was.
Minutes later, Ethan parked behind Josie’s apartment and realized he was the first to arrive. Good. He’d visit with Callie privately while he had a chance. After they ate, he’d have to race to Wichita to catch LeeAnn’s last set. He’d promised.
But as he walked toward the apartment, Josie drove up in her truck, then Isabel in her car. Somehow, they managed to get into Josie’s apartment before he did. Then they closed the door behind them.
By the time he reached it, the door popped open to reveal all three Blume sisters standing in the entrance to Josie’s living room.
Callie put an index finger to her lips and Isabel pointed one of hers at the baby, who was sleeping in a small, portable crib near the sofa.
Josie motioned for him to follow her to the kitchen. “You called the pizza place from your cell, right?” she whispered. “How long till it arrives?”
“Forty minutes,” he said in a normal voice.
“Shh!” Josie glared at him.
Callie entered the kitchen and sat at the table, then Isabel came in and opened the refrigerator. “Soda or beer?” she asked in a hushed voice as she peered inside.
It was soda for Callie and Isabel, beer for Josie and himself. Josie sat at the table across from Callie, and Isabel leaned against the counter next to him. The hiss and snap of the four drinks opening sounded loud. All three women paused, drinks in hand, and listened for a moment.
When the apartment remained quiet, they smirked at one another and sipped their drinks without speaking.
Maybe Luke was a very light sleeper.
The room felt small.
And hot.
Ethan was too grimy and tired to stand around drinking beer and whispering for forty minutes.
Maybe he should have gone home.
“Want to shower while you’re waiting?” Josie whispered, pointing toward his chest.
Ethan glanced down. He had dry wall dust everywhere. He even felt silt between his teeth. “I’m fine,” he lied.
Isabel pulled a fragment of insulation off his shirt-sleeve. “Oh, please, make yourself comfortable,” she said. “I’ll feel awful if you don’t. Forty minutes is just long enough for you to get clean and for me to run your clothes through the washing machine.”
Fifteen minutes later, Ethan had showered and dressed in a pair of gray sweat shorts and a big robe that Josie had found among her things. The clothes fit Ethan well, so he suspected that they belonged to one of her guy friends. It was none of his business, but he was glad that at least one of the Blume sisters had a healthy attitude toward men.
After tiptoeing past the sleeping baby, he discovered the kitchen empty. He grabbed his beer and located the Blume girls sitting on the floor of Josie’s balcony, talking politics.
Callie’s mother might have had some social fears, but she’d raised three savvy daughters. Ethan had always gotten a kick out of the family’s prolonged debates that could run from religion to rhubarb and back again in minutes. He claimed a spot between Callie and the sliding door and joined right in.
When they heard the pizza delivery truck drive up and park, he met the guy at the door to pay, grabbed everyone another drink and rejoined them.
Before he knew it, the pizzas were gone and they’d talked until eleven-thirty. He’d had five beers to Josie’s three, and he’d blown LeeAnn off entirely. He had no doubt that he’d find two or three messages from her on his answering machine.
Damn it all, anyway.
He mentioned leaving, and that’s when Isabel realized that she had forgotten to transfer his clothes from the washer to the dryer.
Ethan studied his unusual attire. No shirt, a robe, shorts, bare legs and bare feet. “Oh well, what are the chances of anyone seeing me between here and home?”
“Oh, Ethan!” Isabel exclaimed.
“I’ll be fine,” he said. “Just help me find my shoes.”
“I put those in the washer, too,” Isabel said. When everyone stared at her, she shrugged. “They were full of dust and insulation.”
“I can wear them wet.”
“I’d feel terrible,” Isabel said. “I must be getting worn-out. I’ve been an awful hostess.”
“You’re not a hostess,” Ethan said. “You’re the friend and sister we’re all helping. Relax.”
“You’ve had a few beers, Eth,” she argued.
“I know. I’m fine.”
All three women looked skeptical.
He was fine!
He was a police officer. He knew when fine was fine.
But when you grew up in a house where alcohol and boys were forbidden, you might wonder how many beers a man could drink and be all right.
“Aw, heck, Eth. Why don’t you just stay tonight?” Josie said. “Guys crash in my recliner all the time. I’ll get you a pillow and some blankets to make it extra comfy.”
Isabel frowned at her, then at him again, then at Callie.
She kept staring at Callie.
Apparently, Callie would decide.
Apparently, he had little say in the matter.
“Okay,” Callie said. “But I’ll have to sleep in here on the sofa,” she said.
Isabel colored. “Oh! Well, of course. I didn’t—”
“I insist,” Callie interjected. “I know you’re protective of your baby, but I’ll take good care of him.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Ethan and I are
married,” Callie argued, even though Isabel had just agreed. “You and Josie should have privacy.”
“All right. Good plan,” Isabel said, sounding uncertain.
It was a good plan, except that Ethan was sleeping in the same room as Callie and a baby who slept a lot more soundly than his mother and aunts believed.
The Blume sisters took turns showering. Within minutes, Callie entered the living room wearing sleep pants and a tank top. With wet hair and a freshly scrubbed face, she bore an air of sweet vulnerability. She fussed with the items in her luggage for a few minutes, then she eased onto the sofa and pulled the covers to her chin.
Ethan lay on the recliner, flat on his back with eyes wide-open. Suddenly, he wasn’t at all tired.
Callie flipped onto her tummy; he flopped over onto his side. She adjusted her pillow, fluffing and punching it; he bent his knees, fitting them into a tight spot. She scratched a spot on her shoulder, sighing; he yanked the blankets over his feet, sighing.
He flipped over.
So did she.
“Can’t sleep?” he muttered.
“Nope.”
He hesitated for only a moment, then said, “Follow me.”
He got up, grabbed his blankets and walked out the sliding glass door, waiting until Callie had followed him before he shut it behind them.
They sat side by side, each with a blanket over their shoulders, and didn’t speak for a long while.
THE COOL, STILL NIGHT made Callie appreciate Ethan’s thoughtfulness in bringing the blankets. From Josie’s second-floor balcony, much of the sky was visible—it was a deep, velvet blue. The magical night made it hard to believe that less than two months ago, heavy rains had caused life-changing disruption to so many people in this town.
Seemingly, it had caused a similar disruption to Callie’s life. Things would surely return to normal when she went back to Denver, but at this moment she felt changed.
She wondered if she’d be able to cope with the distance between her and her sisters again, and if her new memories of Ethan would make coping that much more difficult.
It was also hard to believe that just one week after she’d decided she shouldn’t sit next to Ethan in the fresh air, talking about things—shouldn’t, in fact, allow him to be around her or Luke at all—here she was, sitting next to Ethan in the fresh night air, not talking about anything.
With Luke in the very next room.
At least the baby was asleep.
With Luke’s eyes and mouth closed, Ethan would have to get right down next to him to see a resemblance.
Ethan nudged Callie with his shoulder. “The stars are out,” he said, pointing to a trio of lights low in the western sky.
Not stars. Planets.
And a good idea, to use her aptitude for science to analyze the romance out of a volatile situation. “Those are planets,” she said. “Mercury’s the one dipping into the horizon and Mars is the orange one. The third one is Saturn, I believe.”
He didn’t say anything, so she pulled the covers higher on her chest and fell silent.
“Callie?”
His soft bidding sounded dangerous. She ignored him.
“Cal, look at me.”
Okay. No way to ignore that. She glanced at him and regretted it instantly. He was staring at her mouth. His expression suggested passion, and Callie felt a wild pang of yearning before she turned away.
Her ploy to keep things factual hadn’t worked, and her body had gone haywire. Her shirt chafed against her breasts, her lower limbs trembled and her mouth pouted, as if revealing its readiness for a kiss.
Kisses.
“You don’t have to impress me,” he said, his voice husky. “I know you’re a smart woman. Relax.”
“I am relaxed,” she said, ignoring her mutinous body as she reminded herself of three things. She was talking to her estranged husband. Who was the unwitting father of her precious child. Whom she couldn’t lose.
“Your mother did that, too,” Ethan said.
“Did what?”
“Shrouded her feelings behind debate. Whenever she was really nervous about something, she’d bring up the latest political controversy.”
Had she done that? Callie had always considered her mother a pure intellectual who cared only about her kids and knowledge. Not feelings. “You think so?”
“Oh, yeah.”
Callie didn’t doubt it. Ethan might have missed a few cues in this situation, understandably, but he was normally good at reading people.
“Mom had it rough,” Callie said. “She lost her parents when she was sixteen, then she married too young. When Dad left, she had three kids to raise. She had to be lonely.”
“Probably.”
“I have vague memories of Dad,” Callie said, thinking of the tall, quiet man who had once taken her to hear calliope music, played by a mechanical clown at a Wichita amusement park. “Before he left, she was always upset with him. Later, she directed her anger toward all men.”
“You knew that about her?” Ethan asked.
“Sure,” Callie said. “I think I saw her for who she was. A very smart, very stubborn woman who could have used a good friend. If she had lived longer, my sisters and I might have grown into the role.”
Ethan sighed, then shifted so that their arms were touching. The contact felt as good as it had the other day in the park.
“After she died, you isolated yourself just as she had,” Ethan said quietly. “I wanted to be there for you, but you wouldn’t let me help.”
Callie was horrified. She had always valued Ethan’s opinion. She’d listened to him, hadn’t she?
But back then, they’d argued a lot. She’d said spiteful things during those clashes. She remembered telling Ethan once that he rarely knew what he was talking about. She’d implied that he was weak-minded, and that she’d be better off without him.
That had never been true, but she’d said it. Callie’s mother had always said the same things about her father.
It had likely not been true in that case, either.
Ethan maneuvered away from her, making her miss his warmth, then he grasped her chin and pulled her face toward his. “I knew you were struggling,” he said softly. “Don’t worry too much. We both made mistakes.”
She gazed at him for only a minute. Even in the darkness, she could feel his sincerity. She was grateful for it.
Grateful, also, that she hadn’t become some bitter, hardened woman. Luke must have softened her.
And perhaps she was different because she’d once had Ethan’s very devoted love. She might have failed at marriage, but she recognized that men could be strong allies. She could never become exactly like her mother.
“You’ve always been as smart as Ella, and as stubborn,” he said. “But you allow yourself to feel. Maybe it helped to have sisters.”
“And you,” she admitted. “It helped that I had you.”
This time, she held his stare. She should have told him that years ago. Callie knew she’d always remember this moment. She saw the kiss coming, and she had no inclination to fight it.
Not right now. The reasons for this particular kiss, from both sides, were very pure.
His hot, pliant lips tasted of the same toothpaste she’d used a while ago. She opened her mouth and let him know that she was still soft. Still okay. That the past two years hadn’t hardened her.
The kiss changed quickly, from curious to sensual. When Ethan slid his hands beneath her blanket to caress her breasts through her pajama top, she shivered.
Well, some things might have changed. Her body had. She wondered if he noticed. Wondered how much childbirth had changed her in other ways.
And wished she could ask him.
He growled.
She smiled, but lost that smile immediately when he put both hands on her waist and pulled her around, lifting her to sit across his lap. “Sweet mercy, you feel good,” he said, caressing her hips as he adjusted her body to fit against his arousal.
This would be the appropriate time to stop. She could say she’d heard a noise, then run inside to check on Luke.
She didn’t want to. She wanted to kiss Ethan. She wanted to feel his hands on her needful places and she wanted to relive the deep security of his affection.
“You do, too,” she said quietly.
He tugged his blanket around her shoulders, enclosing them in a private world on Josie’s balcony. Callie slipped her hands beneath the opening to his robe, relishing the feel of his warm, muscular chest.
He hadn’t changed at all, thank heaven.
She wrapped her hands behind his shoulders and slid nearer. When he kissed her again, she closed her eyes, even against the darkness. This would be okay, she thought wildly, if she couldn’t see.
If she didn’t think about why nots.
Running a line of kisses along his collarbone, she pressed a hot, open kiss against his neck while he slid his hands beneath her shirt, exploring her changed breasts with erotic interest.
Luke began to fuss.
Callie ignored those first weak mewlings, hoping sleep would win out. She kissed along Ethan’s jaw, traveling toward his mouth. Wishing he’d touch her nipples again. Wishing he’d kiss them.
Wishing.
Luke began to cry in earnest.
Ethan removed his hands.
She stopped kissing.
Damn.
The baby had fallen to sleep early after she’d given him the medicine. She’d expected him to wake up tonight with a wet diaper or a hungry belly or both.
Just not now.
Callie opened her eyes to Ethan’s gaze. “Guess that’s my cue to leave,” she said.
“Isabel won’t tend to him?”
Isabel. That was right, she’d let Ethan believe that idiotic story about her sister being Luke’s mother. It was so easy to forget.
Callie wished she had told Ethan the truth. She wanted to blurt it out right now.
She could take him by the hand and lead him inside to Luke. She’d tell him to study the boy, and then she’d spill the entire story in Josie’s living room.
But she feared his response. If he reacted in anger and took legal action against her, she couldn’t fathom a future without either her husband or her son.
Perhaps Luke’s crying had been lucky in its timing.
