No, she mustn’t think about it that way. The money she’d been awarded was her money, too. She’d been his wife for ten years. She deserved it, didn’t she?
Arriving at the duplex, Kate carried Spike in his new carrier into the house. When she returned to unload the car, she found Scott in his sexy running outfit waiting for her beside the Honda.
“Need help?”
“Ah, no, I can manage.”
“Let me help.”
He looked so charming and boyish, and so damn luscious in his running shorts. She took a second look at him and couldn’t say no.
“I see you’ve bought out the store,” he commented dryly as he picked up the bulky box containing the tree house.
“It’s for a good cause,” she quipped, carrying in a bag of supplies—brush, catnip mice, cat grass, hairball remedy, a food dish and water bowl. “I’m helping the economy.”
They made another trip to bring in the heavy bags of cat litter and the hooded litter pan. After depositing them on the kitchen floor, Scott turned on his heel and headed toward the front door.
She didn’t want him to think her ungrateful. She didn’t want him to leave.
“Scott, thank you,” she said hurrying to catch up.
He stopped and turned. The morning sunshine, streaming through the front and side windows, emphasized his long legs and well-muscled body. There was something calm and assured about him, as if he was comfortable in his own skin. His dark gaze surveyed hers with interest until she grew uneasy and looked away.
“You’ve done wonders with this apartment, Kate,” he said in his deep, admiring voice. “In a short time, you’ve turned it into a real home.”
Kate glanced around her living room, so different from Scott’s. It was a woman’s room filled with remnants of her old life. The earthy neutral color palette on the walls and natural lighting made the small space feel open. The tone-on-tone upholstered sofa and matching recliner were anchored with a colorful teal area rug. Funky teal accent pillows, table lamps and the retro coffee table added whimsy and smartness to the sunny room.
Unlike Scott’s masculine space, Kate had softened her living space with ready-made drapery panels. Pictures of Reagan and her dad and other knickknacks cluttered the side tables. The cheery room with its cozy furnishings imparted warmth.
As she saw the room through Scott’s eyes, Kate filled with pride. She had done it on her own without the help of an expensive hired decorator or her picky, hard-to-please husband. Ex-husband.
What a sweet thing for him to say. Smiling up at Scott, she shrugged her shoulders. “You really think so?”
“Yes, I think so.”
“I’m just trying to do my best for Reagan.”
“You’ve certainly done it here.”
They stared at each other as if time held them captive, that invisible thread of attraction holding them spellbound. Kate’s heart melted. She slowly, unconsciously, licked her lower lip. Scot drew a deep breath and stepped back as if he needed space.
He hesitated a moment and then ran a hand over his dark hair. “Listen, Kate, if you have time, can you help me with my master bedroom?” He took a step toward her. “I don’t have time to decorate it. Can you help me out?”
Caught unaware, she shook her head. “I couldn’t possibly.”
“Why not?” He met her gaze. “I’ve been in my house for over a year, and all I’ve managed to decorate is my living room. I need help.”
“But I’m no expert.”
“At the moment you have what I don’t have…time. I’m going out of town again next week.” He turned his gaze from her to the room. “And I love what you’ve done here. I want something like this for my master bedroom. Something soothing and comfortable.”
Kate stared at him, vacillation inside her growing. Could she really do it? Play HGTV and decorate Scott’s bedroom? Did he really like what she’d done here, or was it his attempt to…what? Get closer to her? Why? She’d told him she wasn’t interested. Time wasn’t right. She was recently divorced.
And then she remembered the day before when she brushed the horse, and Scott basically held her in his arms. O.M.G!
Do it. You have nothing to lose.
She forced herself to nod, heat blooming in her face. “Okay. I do have time until school starts in late summer. Surely, we can get it done before then.”
“Great! I’ll count on you.” Scott’s smile was a mile wide. He started to the front door, and then turned. “I’ll have to show you my bedroom.” He paused, letting the implication hang between them. “When Reagan is at horse camp. Tomorrow morning.”
Chapter Eight
The door had barely closed behind Scott when the trembling inside Kate started. What had she done to herself? Decorating her home was totally different from the responsibility of decorating Scott’s. And his bedroom, for God’s sakes!
Antsy, unable to concentrate, she sprang into action, unpacking Spike’s new equipment. She filled his shiny water dish and put kibble in the bowl, placing them both on the kitchen floor. Kate arranged the new litter pan on top of a plastic sheet in the guest bedroom/study. She added dustless litter that had been recommended by the receptionist and put the curious Spike into the middle of the hooded pan to make sure he understood his responsibility.
Next she tackled the assembly of the tree house. That’s where her father found her thirty minutes later, sitting in the middle of the kitchen floor amid the carpet-covered pieces of cedar and studying the directions that appeared to have been written in Chinese.
“Katy, you here?” Ben Cox wandered into the kitchen. “What in the hell are you doing?”
“Hi, Dad.” Kate looked up, pleased he’d returned safely from Ohio. “Glad to see you, too.”
“Get up from there, girl. Let me do that. You don’t know nothin’ about putting stuff together.” He shooed her away from her construction project. “What is this thing anyway?”
Happy for her father’s help, Kate scrambled to her feet. From her childhood, her dad had always ridden to her rescue. Too bad he’d been unable to save her from herself and her poor decision ten years ago. He’d warned her against marrying Jerry. She hadn’t listened. All water over the dam, of course.
Kate let out a breath of relief. “It’s a climbing contraption for a cat,” she told him.
“You guys don’t have a cat.” He eyed her suspiciously. “Or do you?”
Spike chose that moment to appear, springing from his hiding spot under the kitchen table and attacking Ben’s shoe strings.
“That’s no cat,” he pronounced gruffly. “More the size of a damn rat.”
“Don’t let Reagan hear you say that,” Kate warned, smiling. “She loves that kitten.”
“‘Bout time the kid got a pet.” Ben pulled up a chair and picked up the instructions while Kate made him a cup of coffee in the Keurig coffeemaker.
She brewed one for herself, liberally added milk to it, and settled down on a kitchen chair to watch. “How was your trip?”
“Good.” Her dad wasn’t much for words, but added, “Bud and I are getting too damn old.”
“But you guys are still healthy and active.”
“Humph. Don’t kid yourself. Growing old ain’t for sissies.”
Kate sipped the hot coffee, cupping the mug in her hands. Her father’s hair wasn’t completely gray, mostly salt and pepper. His middle had thickened over the years, but his attitude was upbeat, and he remained spry. She dreaded the day when he was gone. Her divorce had made her face reality far more than she wished, and she knew someday she’d be without his support, without his shoulder to lean on.
“I found out from Reagan that Jerry is getting married this weekend,” Kate said softly.
Ben didn’t even pause at her announcement. He screwed the square base and the first pole together and set them upright.
“I wondered when that was going to happen,” he muttered. “Didn’t take the bastard long.”
“Dad!” Ka
te put the mug down on the kitchen table. Her hands were shaking too badly to hold it.
Ben shook the screwdriver at her. “The man never had no morals. Wouldn’t surprise me if he wasn’t banging some woman on the side.”
“Dad!” His words were ugly, but they reflected exactly what Kate suspected.
“You know I’m right. You were sleeping with him before you married him,” he said plainly. “I told you Scott was the honorable one. You should have married him.”
Kate jumped up and marched to the sink to pour out the coffee. Like her father’s words, it was too bitter to drink. She fought tears of anger, finally collecting herself and turning back to admit, “Scott never asked me to marry him.”
“Then the man is dumber than I thought.”
Kate leaned against the sink, facing her father, and clutched the countertop behind her. She relived her frustration years ago when she was dating both men. It was true. Scott never spoke of marriage. They’d been high school sweethearts. Maybe he took her for granted. But the atmosphere at a big-time college was different from home—charged with sex, drugs and drink. She had joined a sorority, relishing her new popularity. She hardly studied.
Scott was too busy studying. Too busy being serious. He hadn’t shown her he’d cared about her like Jerry had. Hadn’t sent flowers or taken her out on expensive dates or told her she was beautiful, just the type of girl he desired to marry.
Had she married Jerry out of guilt because she'd slept with him? Or had she married him because he'd stroked her ego and made her feel wanted and complete? Or both? Had she really loved him? She’d thought she did.
In the end, she hadn’t been enough for Jerry. She had been an awkward entertainer of his clients, not polished or sophisticated enough. He’d accused her of being cold in bed and begged her for an intimacy she didn’t feel. She’d failed him and Reagan. And now she was divorced, and Reagan was forced to switch households on a schedule like a mechanical doll.
Anger at herself rolled through her stomach. She swallowed, tamping down the self-loathing. If only she’d done what it took to make Jerry happy. God knew, she’d tried.
“I’m worried about Reagan, Dad,” she said in a raw voice. “I thought this kitten might help ease her through the divorce. Give her something to love.”
Ben put the finishing touches on the tree house, placing it in front of the kitchen window so the cat could look outside. There were three carpeted perches, one being a tunnel perfect for hiding. He snatched up the kitten and deposited him on the top perch so that they were eye-to-eye.
“He is a cute little thing,” Ben conceded looking the cat. “What’s his name?”
“Spike.” Kate’s voice choked with emotion.
Ben turned and surveyed her. “Now it’s nothin’ to cry about, honey.”
He knew her so well. He’d raised her, after all. “I’m not crying.” Kate lifted her chin. “It’s just that I try so hard, and it’s so unfair that Reagan and I have to go through all this.”
“Nobody ever said life was fair.”
How often had she heard her father say that? Why couldn’t she get it through her hard head?
“I know. It’s just that I want so much for my daughter.”
“I did, too, honey,” he said in agreement. “Life didn’t deal me no favors when your mother left us.”
“I know, Dad.” She shouldn’t have brought this up. She shouldn’t have made him remember his own disappointments and heartaches.
“But all you can do is your best. Children are forgiving, especially if they know they are loved. Believe me, Reagan is well-loved, and she knows it.”
“Oh, Dad.” Kate crumpled into his arms as she had done so many times growing up. He hugged her tight and kissed the top of her head, ruffling her hair.
“It’s okay, Katy,” he whispered. “It will all be okay. Trust me.”
* * * *
Reagan came home that afternoon excited because she’d trotted and posted in the aisle between the stalls, and tomorrow she would ride in the arena.
“Georgia says I’m good for a beginner,” Reagan told her mother as she put the silverware on the table for supper.
“That’s terrific!” Kate had pulled herself together from her earlier meltdown. “I’m glad you’re having a good time.”
“There’s a barbeque picnic Saturday night after camp is over, but I guess I can’t go.”
Kate placed a tuna casserole on a hot plate in the middle of the table. “Why not?”
“I have to go to Daddy’s house.”
Her daughter’s words sounded strange. Daddy’s house used to be their house. She turned her back on Reagan and ground her teeth. Hurt cut deep.
Cut it out! Don’t cave again!
“Hey, wait a minute.” Kate whirled around, suddenly remembering. “You’re not going to Louisville this weekend.”
“Oh, that’s right. Daddy’s getting married.”
The finality of the whole damn divorce hit Kate at that moment. Coming from Reagan’s lips, her daughter’s words held a stark truth that Kate couldn’t ignore.
She straightened her shoulders and made the tone of her voice light. “We can go to the picnic.”
“Hey, yeah! I can show you Buster, the horse I ride.”
“Great.” Kate enjoyed the return of happiness to Rea’s face. “I’d love to meet Buster.”
They sat down to eat just as the doorbell chimed. “I’ll get it!” Reagan sprang from her chair and ran into the living room. She came back with another girl in tow, the long-legged teenager Kate had seen at horse camp.
“This is my friend, Georgia,” Reagan announced. She wore a look of pride—the kind younger girls often wear when older girls pay attention to them.
This was Dr. Sullivan’s adopted daughter. “Hello, Georgia.”
“Hi, Mrs. Lawrence, I brought Reagan some of my old jodhpurs.” Georgia held up a large canvas bag as proof.
Supper was immediately forgotten while Reagan tried on the riding pants. Georgia had even brought several pair of short, black riding boots—well-worn, but if they saved money, what did Kate care?
“What are these elastic straps?” Kate asked, pulling out a handful from the bottom of the bag.
“They’re keepers, Mom,” Reagan said with disgust as if Kate should know.
“Okay,” Kate said slowly, perplexed.
Georgia filled in the puzzle pieces. “Keepers are buttoned to your jodhpurs and go under your boots. They ‘keep’ your pants down when you ride.”
The light went on, and Kate nodded. “Oh, ‘keepers’. Of course!”
Fifteen minutes later, they settled on a pair of boots that fit Reagan and two pair of jodhpurs—one navy polyester that Georgia said Reagan could wear at competitions, and the other made from blue jean material which would be perfect for practice.
Dressed in the jodhpurs and boots, her daughter looked like a real equestrian. Warmth flooding her heart, Kate smiled at her little girl. “Well, I think you look terrific,” she said then turned to Georgia. “Thank you for letting us borrow the riding gear.”
“Oh, you can have them. Mandy says we don’t need them anymore.”
“Well, thank Mandy for us, will you?”
“Sure will!”
Reagan saw Georgia to the door, returning to take her place at the table. They ate in silence a few minutes, and finally Kate tried to start a conversation.
“Do you think you’ll be able to ride better tomorrow wearing boots and real riding pants?”
Reagan rolled her eyes as if to say her mother was a real dummy. “Jodhpurs,” she corrected. “Mom, they’re called Kentucky jodhpurs, not riding pants.”
“Okay,” Kate mumbled, properly chastised and secretly glad Sarah Scott’s remedy was working. Horse camp was just the right thing to initiate Reagan into small town life and ease the hardship of living with divorced parents.
It wasn’t until after she crawled into bed that Kate remembered her morning app
ointment with Scott. The bedside clock read one o’clock before she finally fell asleep.
Chapter Nine
“This is my bedroom.” Scott let her enter the room first.
Kate paused on the threshold. “I couldn’t guess.” She released a hollow laugh. What was she doing here anyway? Glancing quickly at the unmade mattress on a metal frame and stark white sheets, she fought the urge to run. “And you’re right. It’s pathetic.”
Aware of his presence behind her, his big body clad once again in his oh-too-sexy jogging shorts, Kate suppressed her jitters and strode into the room with a confidence she didn’t feel. His room was, once again, a mirror of hers on the other side of the duplex, but unlike hers, it was a bare slate.
“I suppose it is bad,” he said with a luscious, self-assured laugh.
“Do you call that a bed? Are you sure you actually sleep on this mess?”
Sorry she sounded gruff, Kate turned to face him as scalding heat rushed to her cheeks. Damn! He was cute. With his rumpled hair and proud tilt of his head, he was a guy every honest, red-blooded woman could drool over. Kate desired him at that moment, hating herself for her weakness.
She shouldn’t be here with Scott. Not in his bedroom, for God’s sakes.
Over. Done with. She’d had her chance years ago. But now that she’d gotten herself into this decorating mess, she had to make the best of it.
“What do you want done?” she asked, trying to regain control.
“If I knew, you wouldn’t be here.”
She drank in the sight of Scott’s bewildered face. “Well, do you want new furniture? A proper bedframe and headboard?”
He rubbed his chin. “That would be a good start.”
“What colors do you want? Do you want drapes or shades? Do you have any paintings that you’d like to use?”
“Hold up!” He held up a hand and took a step toward her, laughing. “Enough! How about surprising me?”
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