by T. L. Haddix
“Why wouldn’t I say yes?” she whispered as he cupped her cheek.
He shook his head. “I can’t figure out why you would, knowing who I am.”
Brooke’s smile was tinged with sadness. “Oh, Caleb, I know who you are. I know exactly who you are. I’m just not sure you do.”
Somehow, his hand had moved from her cheek into her hair, where his fingers tangled gently in the heavy tresses. He swallowed as she turned her body to face his, her hands touching his waist as she watched him. The subtle floral perfume she wore rose to tickle his nose, and the feel of her resting against him… he couldn’t stand the temptation of her.
The explosion of feeling that hit him when their lips met nearly sent him to his knees. The kiss stayed tentative only for a few seconds, then it became something wild and needy and deep, more intoxicating than any beer. For all he knew, hours could have passed between the time his mouth first touched hers and when he finally lifted his head, nearly in pain from the longing for her.
“Brooke?” he murmured, pulling back to look at her face.
“I wasn’t just in the neighborhood.” Her hands were hot against the bare skin of his chest, and he realized she’d slid them under his shirt. “Don’t send me home tonight, Caleb.”
Breath shuddered out of him as he closed his eyes, rubbing his face against her hair. She was the perfect height for him, tall enough that he didn’t have to stoop to hold her but not so tall that their eyes were on the same level.
“I didn’t think you even liked me.” He looked at her when she gave a laughing groan.
Warm brown eyes peeked up at him, then she was hiding her face in his shoulder. “I’ve had the biggest crush on you since my first day at the clinic. I can’t believe I admitted that.”
Again, he tipped her face up, needing to see the truth. “I beg your pardon?”
She tweaked his nipples, making him jump, then she pulled her hands from under his shirt. Grasping his shoulders, she gave him a gentle shake—or tried to. She was so small compared to him that she didn’t budge him.
“You heard me the first time. I’m the head cheerleader in the Dr. Caleb Walker fan club.” She backed away and went to the side of the bed, where she flopped backward, landing on the mattress with a soft bounce. “I can die now. Just cover me up right here and leave me.”
Instead, he stared at her with a grin. “There’s a fan club?”
She grabbed a pillow from the head of the bed and smacked him with it. “Conceited man. You know you’re the county heartthrob. Why do you think the clinic always has fresh pies and casseroles? It isn’t because of Dr. Harvey, that’s for damned sure.”
Walker snatched the pillow and tossed it aside, then he fell down on the mattress beside her, half over her as he rose up on his side. “So why do you call me Caleb then? You know I hate that name.”
She sighed. “Because one of us has to keep you humble. Why do you hate it so much? It’s a good name. It suits you.”
He spread her hair out in a dark, silky wave on the quilt. “I dunno. I just do,” he said as he laced their fingers together beside her head.
An easy quiet that was profoundly intimate fell between them. When she rolled toward him, lifting her leg to wrap around his hips, Walker nearly stopped breathing.
“So if I call you Walker from now on, are you going to let me spend the night?”
He nuzzled her nose with his. “I have a confession to make,” he murmured against her lips. “I don’t mind in the least when you call me Caleb. And there’s no way I’ll send you home until you’re ready to go.”
“Oh,” she whispered. “Well, then.”
And that was the last coherent thing either of them said for a long, long time.
Chapter Four
Brooke was toasty warm when she woke up, her head burrowed under the covers, her legs tangled up in Caleb’s. Every muscle in her body felt smooth and relaxed, as though she could have turned to water and swum across the universe. As the whimsy behind her thoughts struck her, she smiled.
The smile faded, however, as she started wondering how the morning would go. The clock was on her side of the bed, and a quick glance told her it was a few minutes shy of six, which was when Caleb said he usually rose. She wished she could turn back the clock so her time with him would last. If she’d thought she could make the move without awakening him, she might just have tried.
Not really. She’d never do that to him. Even though he didn’t have to work today, as Mondays were his day off, he had obligations. She didn’t have to work either, as Dr. Harvey had called early yesterday evening, upon finding out about Belle, and insisted she take the day off.
For a few precious moments, she let herself pretend she could stay in Caleb’s bed all day. When the alarm sounded and he stirred behind her, she sighed and let that fantasy go. Without speaking, he reached around her and fumbled for the clock. Brooke rolled over and ran her hands down his body, nipping his neck where it joined his shoulder.
He returned the move, his mouth lingering over her skin to feather along her collarbone as he maneuvered her onto her back then slid between her legs. “I think I warned you last night that biting would get you punished.”
“Mm, you did,” she said. “I like to live dangerously. Punish away.” His version of “punishment” was to bring her to the edge again and again until she was begging then drive her utterly into the stars.
Instead, he nuzzled her jaw. “I’m all punished out. I’ll have to give you a rain check.”
So he proceeded to turn her inside out in a fast, straightforward way that destroyed her.
After, while they were trying to catch their breath and she was still wrapped around him, she touched his chest. “I think you said last night that you’d not run me off until I was ready to go, right?”
His hand, which had been rubbing her back, paused for a second. “I did.”
“I hope you meant that because I don’t want to leave.”
Caleb moved, lifting up on one arm to look down at her in the soft morning light. He studied her for a long moment, the faintest hint of a bemused smile on his face, then finally said, “I’m fine with that plan. But you’re cooking for us.”
Brooke tackled him, tickling his ribs until they’d rolled onto the floor and he was the one begging for mercy. “You have no idea what you just got yourself into, do you?” she asked, breathless with laughter.
He wrapped her in his arms and gave her a noisy smooch on the mouth. “I have an idea, yeah.”
But from the way he was grinning, the idea didn’t trouble him in the least.
Chapter Five
By three that afternoon, Walker was starting to get a little nervous. He’d lent Brooke a shirt and some sweat pants and had shown her every inch of the property. He’d also introduced her to Hoof and Mane—where he’d been stunned to learn she’d never ridden a horse. They’d not left the property, spending the entire day laughing and making love. Thanks to her creative cooking skills and a ravenous appetite, they’d also eaten up all the groceries he had left in the house.
None of that was why he was nervous. No, that anxiety lay solely at the feet of his emotions. He didn’t want her to go. Worse, he was on the verge of begging her to stay just a while longer even though he knew she couldn’t.
Dressed once again in the outfit she’d arrived wearing, she gave a hard sigh as she looked out the front door toward her car. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow. At work, I mean.” When she tucked her hair behind her ear, her hand shook a bit.
Walker realized she was as nervous as he was, and he pulled her close. “Are we okay? I mean, what we did here, this won’t hurt us at work, will it?” He heard the words come out, and he winced even as she turned astonished eyes toward him. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
Brow furrowed, she played with one of the buttons on his flannel shirt
. Her gaze was wary and guarded. “How did you mean it?”
He touched her cheek. “I don’t want us to turn into polite strangers who pretend we don’t know each other. That’s all.”
“So you want us to what, not hide what happened here? I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” she said, her body relaxing a little. “Dr. Harvey’s not the most open-minded soul when it comes to certain things. I’m not ashamed of this, but I’m not planning to tell anyone we work with about what happened either.”
“Does that mean this was a one-time thing?” He hated asking that question because he was afraid of what her answer might be. He probably should have asked before now, before he was stupidly attached, but he’d not wanted to think about anything serious.
Brooke wouldn’t look at him, tracing the pattern of his shirt instead. “Do you want it to be?”
“No.”
The shock on her face as she stared at him solemnly broke his heart a little as understanding dawned that she’d expected only a one-night stand. But he couldn’t take his answer back.
“I thought you didn’t do relationships,” she said softly.
“I don’t. I mean, I have in the past, and I failed pretty miserably.” When her eyebrows shot up, he said, “In the far past, not recent. I’m not good at relationships. I don’t think I got that gene. God knows my parents didn’t have it, and I sure as hell don’t want to live my life the way they lived theirs. But I don’t want this to just be sex.”
A bemused smile touched her lips. “Okay.”
“What about you?”
She slid her arms up around his shoulders. “Oh, I want a white picket fence and an apron with strings so my babies can tug on them. Lots and lots of babies too. A houseful.”
“Babies?” he asked in a strangled voice. “More than one? Human babies?”
The dratted female grinned and laughed right in his face, leaning into him. “Caleb Walker, you’re such a man! I really have to go. I’d like to beat Dad home and get cleaned up. I’ll see you tomorrow?”
Shaking his head, he pulled her back in for a searing kiss. “Be careful going home, okay?” He let her go inch by inch, capturing her hand and pressing a kiss to the back before finally releasing her.
“I will. See you soon.”
He followed her onto the porch, crossing his arms against the cold January wind. Watching her leave hit him squarely in his emotions, his instincts screaming at him that he was being an idiot both for letting her go and for letting her in to begin with. He didn’t move from the front porch until long after she’d disappeared from sight, and even then, he had to force himself to go inside instead of following her home.
The hell of it was he still didn’t know how she felt about him, about whether she thought they were in a relationship or not. Normally, he could tell when she was teasing. Today, his judgment was clouded by the hours they’d spent wrapped around each other.
“I guess time will tell,” he muttered as he stepped inside for his coat. He would head back out to the barn and spend some time with Hoof and Mane before he drove to town for a few staples he could easily cook. Otherwise, he might give in to temptation and show up on her doorstep, and that would be a very bad idea.
Walking in the front door and not having Belle greet her hit Brooke like a ton of bricks. She’d managed to shove aside the grief of losing the dog while she was with Caleb, but as soon as she opened the door, it slapped her in the face. Brokenhearted all over again, she headed for the sanctuary of her room and took a long, cathartic shower.
By the time her father came home an hour later, she was in the kitchen. She heard him pause inside the door then let out a heavy sigh.
“I’m in here,” she called. A moment later, he stopped in the kitchen doorway, looking tired. “How was your day?”
“Long. What time did you get home?” He crossed to give her a hug and a kiss. “This looks good.”
The counter was full of food, meals she’d prepared for them for lunch for the week. “Thanks. I’ve not been back long, maybe an hour or two. How’s Jeanette?”
“Good. She sends her regards. An hour or two, hmm?”
“Yes. And no offense, but I’m not answering any more questions about that.” She sent him a smile. “Dinner will be ready in about thirty minutes.”
Arlen tugged on her ponytail. “I’ll get cleaned up then.”
Brooke released a hard breath when he left without pressing her about her night. She knew he was concerned and he wouldn’t ask for intimate details, but she wasn’t ready to share even the vaguest information about Caleb. Shoot, she didn’t know what to think, anyhow. His admission that he wasn’t interested in just sex had floored her.
“You’re going to have to rethink everything,” she muttered as she started the water for the vegetables they’d be having with dinner. Or maybe she’d not think about anything at all. Caleb had also admitted he didn’t do relationships. With any luck, he’d think she was kidding about the house and the kids. She wasn’t, but for right now, and maybe forever if they didn’t end up going anywhere, he didn’t need to know that.
Chapter Six
The next three weeks flew by so fast Walker found himself wishing he could slow down time. He and Brooke didn’t spend every night together, but she was at his house more mornings than not. He’d even had a couple of calls out in the middle of the night where he’d ended up leaving her asleep, curled up in his sheets.
He tried not to dwell on how nice it was to come home to her at the end of those nights.
They’d managed, so far as he could tell, to be circumspect at work. So far, no one seemed to have picked up on the change in their relationship. Gina knew he was seeing someone, as he’d started bringing leftovers to work to reheat for lunch, but aside from some gentle ribbing, she hadn’t pried.
Brooke teased him quietly at work, slipping notes into his back pocket here and there. The first time, he’d expected the note to be work-related or romantic. Instead, when he’d pulled out the small piece of paper, he’d been startled into laughter.
“Garlic-crusted chicken?” he asked her in a low voice the first chance he got.
“Mm-hmmm. With creamy mashed potatoes and homemade gravy. Your next patient is here, and she’s nervous. Gina put her in room two.”
“Brown or white?” he asked as he headed for the exam room.
“Excuse me?”
“The gravy.”
Brooke rolled her eyes and laughed at him. “Get to work.”
And so it went. Lasagna, spaghetti with meatballs, stir-fried beef pepper steak, a hearty chili that had him whimpering from the heat and begging for more… The old adage about the way to a man’s heart being through his stomach kept popping into Walker’s mind, but he gave up caring somewhere around the second week. He was enjoying their relationship too much to keep second-guessing things.
Three weeks in, however, the game changed. They were in the barn, having just finished a riding lesson with Mane. Brooke was combing her down, and she kept glancing over toward the corner.
“Is that old barn wood stacked over there?” she finally asked.
Walker glanced behind him. “Yeah. There was a lean-to out behind this barn, and it wasn’t salvageable. Why?”
She shrugged. “I was just thinking. That’s all. Do you have plans for it?”
“No. It’s good wood—oak and some walnut, I think. The lean-to was about seventy-five years old. I figured I’d keep it around in case this one needs repairs.”
“That’s a big stack of wood for repairs.” She tilted her head. “You know those machines you put wood in and it smooths them out?”
“A planer?”
Her eyes lit up. “Yes! I know what it does, but I couldn’t remember what it was called.”
Walker grinned. “Okay, girly girl. You think I should plane it down?”
Kitchen cabinets. A table. Walker scowled. “What’s wrong with my kitchen now?” He knew very well what was wrong, but he enjoyed teasing her. To that end, he put Mane back in her stall and stalked Brooke backward into a post on the opposite side of the barn.
To his surprise, she bit her lip and eyed him warily. “I didn’t mean to overstep. I’m sorry. I know it’s your house. I just thought…”
He put his hands on the post on either side of her head, heart pounding as he tried to keep things light. “I know what you thought, missy. Sure, it starts with a kitchen cabinet here, a table there. Then there’s a rug on the floor, and the old, faded linoleum has to go. Curtains go up that aren’t old sheets cut to fit,” he drawled, tracing her hairline from her temple down to her ear.
“Cut poorly, I want to interject,” she said, her chin lifting in defiance.
“They do the job they need to do,” he told her with aplomb. “Anyhow, like I was saying, it starts in the kitchen, and the next thing a man knows, he’s taking his shoes off at the door and watching where he steps on the carpet. Yes, ma’am-ing here, and no, ma’am-ing there. Then he starts to get ideas, you see, and he starts to think about the future. The place he hangs his hat, metaphorically speaking, turns from a bachelor pad into a home. I’m afraid we can’t have that. No, ma’am… see? It’s already started.” He winked when she smiled. “That barn wood, I never knew how dangerous it was, or I wouldn’t have kept it around. Best not to even go there.” Then he kissed her.
When he lifted his head, she was holding on to his shirt, pulling him close. “What kind of ideas does a man get exactly?”
