by Anna Sugden
“Well, whatever. Let’s not get all... I don’t want to psych myself out. It’s a lot of work, so many different ways to mess it up. So, let’s change the subject.” She wrapped her arms around him and pressed a kiss to his mouth, her whole body leaning against his, which pretty much caused an immediate erection.
“You’re all cute looking like you’re baking, even if the food is for dogs.”
He cleared his clogged throat. “Um. Thank you. But, uh, we should probably have rules or guidelines or something. For work. And this.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I’m not very good with rules.”
“Why are you always telling me you’re not good with stuff that you seem pretty okay at?”
Any cheerfulness in her expression completely faded, and she dropped her arms and stepped away. “Man, is it pick-on-Cara day?” She dropped her bag on the table right outside the kitchen. “I’ve got work to do.”
“Who else is picking on you? Not that I was. I was making an observation.” It had been a long time since he’d felt protective of someone who wasn’t four legged and covered in fur. He’d made a conscious choice to shut himself away from anyone who might need him.
Cara didn’t need him. No matter what kind of mess she thought she was. She could fight her own battles. He shouldn’t feel the need to take up any for her.
He followed her into the office, where she stared at his desk, hands fisted on her hips. “We need to talk new business cards. And the bag designs.”
She tsked, she moved stacks, she didn’t look at him once. And she didn’t appear to be doing any actual work. Just moving things around, trying to look busy.
Finally he was driven by that instinct to protect that had come from somewhere long ago, growing up the only boy in a house with a mother who always seemed to need protecting. From emotionally abusive boyfriends, from herself, from him screwing it all up.
“Who was bothering you?” he demanded, probably too roughly.
She lifted her chin and crossed her arms over her chest. “Did you make an appointment for your surgery?”
“Wha-What?”
“You want to butt into my business, I get to butt into yours. Turnabout is fair play.” Then she stepped toward him and poked him in the chest. Hard. He grabbed her hand to stop her from doing it again.
“Do not poke me.”
“Why the hell not? I have had my fill of being psychoanalyzed today. By people who actually know me. People who do not hide from humanity in a damn shack in the woods. I am fine. I did the pie thing, didn’t I? Didn’t I?”
“And belittled it. Played it down.”
“So what?”
“Be proud. I may hide away from humanity, but I am proud of what I do and what I built.”
“I’m not you.”
“You’re better than me, and you should act like it.”
“Or maybe you should be better. Try harder, Wes. Remember that little sliver of advice?”
He opened his mouth to say something back, but what was there to say? She was right. Completely right. That time by the creek he’d told her to try harder, and he was here telling her not to belittle her successes when he’d been belittling and downplaying the success he’d had with her just last night.
She cocked her head. “Gotcha there, didn’t I?” She sauntered past him. “I have to go to the bathroom.”
Wes watched her go but didn’t make a move to go after her. It wasn’t his place. Cara’s issues weren’t his issues, and it wasn’t his job to make her see herself for what she really was. It certainly wasn’t his job to feel protective of her.
But it seemed like such a waste. She was... She was amazing. Certainly no one else had swept into his life and made it a little better, not even his own mother. She should see that.
But who was he to make her see? Who was he to do much of anything? Maybe he needed to keep his mouth shut and let this whole thing fade away.
That stupid longing feeling centered itself in his chest once again, but he wasn’t about to dwell on it. He had actual work to do. Work that, thank everything holy, didn’t have anything to do with people and trying to figure them out.
* * *
CARA FELT LIKE an ass. She was an ass. It was just that she’d done the thing she was supposed to do, and apparently that still wasn’t good enough? Because she wasn’t being optimistic about it? God, didn’t Wes get it? Optimism was her recipe for disaster. She’d come here all giddy and excited, and then he had to echo things Mia had said. Him! That was ludicrous and hypocritical, and, oh, she’d been a big jerk to him. And he’d shut himself away for the rest of the afternoon.
She deserved the cold shoulder. The fact he cared was kind of sweet. Somehow in a very short period of time, they’d twined their issues around each other, and there was something nice about it because they’d both moved forward.
How it had happened, she had no idea. But it had, and she shouldn’t be a jerk to the guy. Which meant she needed to apologize before she left for the day. Maybe with sex?
“Oh, be a grown-up for once, Pruitt,” she muttered, brushing her hands over the front of her skirt and walking with purpose to the kitchen, where Wes had been working for hours without a peep.
He stood at the counter, his packaging supplies lined up in assembly order. Though he must have heard her enter, he didn’t stop his meticulous process. This was where she saw the soldier in him the most. Mind focused on a task, plan clear and easy.
It made her think of last night. How unsure he’d been. Scared, almost. To think he’d been carrying all that baggage around.
Her throat got tight because she shouldn’t be here. Wes needed so much more than anything she could offer. The fact she even wanted to offer, after a few weeks of barely friendship and one night of sex was just...
She had to go home before she did something stupid. Maybe make it clear that all that should be between them was work. “Hey, um, I know I owe you a few hours. I can make them up tomorrow.”
He didn’t look away from the treats he was packaging. “That’ll work.”
In twenty-four hours she’d managed to sleep with him, make him think she was running out this morning, sleep with him again then be a jerk.
This is the kind of thing that happens to girls who don’t follow the rules, Cara Pruitt. Cara had to close her eyes against Mom’s voice in her head.
You’re not very supportive. This is hard, and you’ve kind of made it worse. James. That one had stung for a long time.
For the second time in the same day, she knew she had to get out of this house. “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”
“Sure thing.”
She grabbed Sweetness’s leash and her bag and stepped outside. Sweetness came racing up to the porch, and Cara bent down to pet her.
Cara had escaped. She was out of Wes’s house and was pretty sure whatever arrangement they had was a thing of the past.
So, good. They could go back to being coworkers, and she could stay far away from his heartbreaking issues because she didn’t belong there.
She didn’t feel relief as she walked with Sweetness to her car. She felt like crying. Or running back. Apologizing and leaning into him. Needing him.
Maybe Mia was right. Maybe even with the pie thing sorted, she was still a complete and utter mess. Which, well, wasn’t surprising. What was surprising was that she wanted to fix the mess.
Especially the mess she was leaving behind. But she didn’t have a clue as to how.
Mia said she had to believe she could, but she had no skills for this. For him. For... Sweetness yipped, hopping into the backseat and jumping up to look out the back window. Yipping at Wes’s slowly disappearing cabin.
Cara blew out a shaky breath. Something had to change. She had to figure out some way to make things change.
You have to believe you can.
Yeah, that was going to take some work.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
WES ALMOST DIDN’T expect Cara to show up. And, the way things
had ended, it made a whole lot of sense for her to never come back.
Apparently, Cara’s response to awkward wasn’t to hide away, though, because there her Camry was, bumping up the drive as he finished up his chores.
Keeping his morning the same day after day as his own basic training was probably strange, but he liked the routine of it, the feeling of being in control of his own life, even if sometimes his limbs didn’t cooperate.
He’d overworked his arm yesterday and this morning, and now that Cara had arrived, he wasn’t in the mood. Not for people. Not for her perfume and the awkwardness she made him feel.
Yup. Not a virgin anymore, but still an awkward moron.
Cara made her way to him, her bag looking bulkier than usual. She had one of those determined looks on her face. As if he was wrong and she was going to prove it to him.
Except she didn’t need to prove it. Whatever it was, he was wrong. Always. Wrong and stupid and—
He needed to get a handle on this.
She stopped in front of him, her chin tilted upward. “I have a peace offering.”
“Did you need one?”
She smiled, but not one of those dazzling so-sure-of-herself ones. This one made him feel as though he wasn’t the only one feeling any discomfort.
Her eyes followed Sweetness up the stairs of the porch. “Things got weird yesterday. I wanted to put that behind us. Come on.” She marched toward the house in that easy, take-charge way she had, making him feel even less like dealing with all of this.
Why couldn’t they ignore it? That method served him so well. He trudged after her up the porch stairs and inside. She didn’t stop until she was at his desk. Then she pointed to the chair. “Sit.”
“I’m not a dog, Cara.”
She lifted an eyebrow, and, okay, he wasn’t that far removed from a dog, so he sat. Path of least resistance and all that.
She dug around in her bag, her hair falling in front of her face, reminding him of yesterday morning when she’d been getting dressed. After they’d had sex. Twice.
How could he get back there? There was nice. Awesome. There had been things he didn’t feel very often. Normal. Satisfied. Maybe even a little proud of himself.
Yeah, he couldn’t remember feeling that too often.
Cara interrupted his thoughts by shoving a piece of paper in his face. He frowned at the drawing that looked like Phantom. On the collar of the dog it read Stone Organic Dog Treats. It was all in black and white, but looked like a logo or something.
“I don’t...”
“My sister Anna, she’s good at this stuff. She makes most of Mia’s signs and decorations. Your booth is so plain in the middle of all the color at the market, and I mean, bright and glittery isn’t you. But I thought a little illustration might, you know, help. We can put it on the labels with the treat names, the bags...everything.”
Wes could only stare at the drawing, his brain not kick-starting enough to give him the appropriate response to this.
“Not that you need help. I know it’s pretty ludicrous, me giving you any advice about running your own business, but it’s not even my advice. I’ve seen what Mia’s had success with and...” She made a waving motion toward the sign.
Finally he worked it through his head to look at her. She was staring at the drawing, too, eyebrows scrunched together and lips pursed. He didn’t understand that expression. This. Anything. “Why?”
She let out a gusty sigh and looked around the room. When she didn’t find what she was looking for, she plopped onto the floor cross-legged. It made his hip hurt just looking at her.
“So, yesterday got weird, and I wanted a gesture to show you that this part doesn’t have to be. I mean, me working for you doesn’t have anything to do with...” She picked at a spot on the carpet, then shook her head. “This is so awkward. I have never in my life felt uncomfortable talking about sex, but I just...”
“Maybe when we had sex it was, like, one of those mind-switching things.”
She snorted out a laugh, her eyes meeting his for the first time all morning. “Are you feeling like a flighty twenty-five-year-old?”
“No, I pretty much feel like a messed-up thirty-one-year-old.”
Her shoulders slumped. “I want you to know—all the weird yesterday? My fault. I’m not good with people when it’s serious stuff. Just some fun? I’m your girl, but life stuff?” She shrugged. “I have a bad track record with that.”
He opened his mouth to argue with her, but remembered in time that opening his big mouth was what had ruined yesterday. She might want to take the blame, but if he hadn’t felt the need to champion her to her, it never would have blown up.
“Maybe we could go back to the way things were?” Pretend the whole thing never happened. That had worked pretty well with, oh, his entire life. At least, on the outside you could pretend, and then the only person you ever had to deal with was yourself.
Of course, Cara, being Cara, didn’t jump up and down in agreement. She cocked her head, gave him a hint of that sly, sexy smile. “When before, exactly?”
“Um.”
“You know, before I came back yesterday? Or before yesterday morning? Or before we slept together? Before the haircut? Because the hair’s already been cut, so to speak.”
“Um.” He cleared his throat. What exactly did he say to that? “Well, I guess that depends on what you want. I’m pretty flexible.”
“I’m very flexible.” She smiled up at him, all pretty and easy. She made him feel like that ease was possible. Made him like it and hate it and not know which way was up all at the same time.
He had to focus. Find a way to deal with this and her, because she wasn’t going away on her own. She wasn’t pretending, not really. The only way for him to be able to pretend would be to get rid of her.
He didn’t want to do that. He really didn’t. Firsts were flying at him right and left. “So, maybe, just to yesterday morning. Before you left.” Because he didn’t know much about this whole having-sex-repeatedly-with-a-person thing, but he did know an offer when he heard one.
“I was hoping you’d say that. That I can very much deal with.” She unfolded herself into a standing position and slid easily onto his desk, the side of her thigh brushing his arm and the arm of the chair.
She leaned toward him, angling her mouth toward his ear. “But you’re going to have to get out of my chair, because it’s work hours and I have a job to do.” Then she leaned back, grinning.
“Right. Work.”
“For now, anyway.”
“Right.” He got up from the chair. Gingerly, because a simple brush on the arm from Cara and now he was hard as a rock.
She slid into the seat he’d vacated, apparently none the wiser, then picked up the paper with the illustration. “So, um, did you like it? She drew a few others, but this was my favorite. I have the others—”
“It’s perfect.” And it was. Nothing flashy or overly colorful like most of the other booths. Like things that never would have fit him. A simple black-and-white drawing. Phantom. A name for his business.
“So, you’ll use it?”
“Well, sure. Yeah, I mean if it’s okay with her.”
“Yeah. She loves doing stuff like that. Just keep her name at the bottom. I can order you a new sign and business cards, if you want. Obviously you don’t have to—”
“Yes.” For some reason her nervous energy made him want to calm her. Especially since she had nothing to be nervous about. Not when she was helping him out in this amazing way.
She didn’t see that. And he couldn’t tell her she didn’t see it because that’s how they’d gotten things tangled yesterday. But maybe there could be some way he could show her. Maybe...
A random pain shot down his arm, so unexpected he sucked in a breath and winced, trying to clench and unclench his forearm muscle to ride it out.
“Is your arm okay?” She brushed her fingertips from his shoulder to his elbow, but before she could get al
l the way down to his hand, he jerked away from her touch.
“Fine.” He knew he snapped at her, but it was a knee-jerk response. The last things he ever wanted to talk about were how his injuries nagged him and how that one place he’d finally belonged got blasted away along with his vet dreams.
He could make a million firsts, a million forward steps, and that would always be there. The things he was good at got blasted away from him. The things he wanted were always out of reach. Irrevocably.
Maybe she could revoke the virgin stuff, but even Cara’s magic didn’t extend to his injuries and his life.
When he finally forced himself to look at her, she didn’t look at him pityingly or as if he’d hurt her. She just looked sad. Kind of like she had yesterday when they’d fought.
“I can’t possibly ever be the person you’d need in your life. Just to put that out there,” she said quietly, meekly almost. Cara being meek. It didn’t compute.
“I don’t want anyone in my life, so I guess we’re good.” Which was true. It was. It had always been true, and yet it felt wrong to say to Cara. There was a stabbing feeling in his gut, as if it was a lie.
“I should get some work done.”
“Yeah. Yeah. I’ll do that, too.” He nodded and left. No clearer about where they stood than he’d been this morning.
* * *
CARA FOCUSED ON Stone Organic Dog Treats all day. She even canceled her lunch date with Mia. She worked on incorporating Anna’s logo into Wes’s business, got all the treat names lined up, ordered labels. He wouldn’t be all ready for the new and improved Stone at market tomorrow, but it felt like real work. Something she could do and not screw up.
It had put them back on even ground. Sort of. The part where his arm had obviously hurt, and he’d snapped at her hadn’t been nice but it was back to normal.
Even if it prompted all sorts of uncomfortable feelings. Feelings she didn’t know what to do with.
She wanted to help him, soothe him, force him to tell her what was wrong, and as strong as all that want was, the bottom line was once he told her, she’d inevitably fail to do any of it.
She was the girl who got dumped by the guy whose best friend had committed suicide. And it had been because she couldn’t handle the emotion and made him uncomfortable. The girl who hadn’t visited Grandma in the hospital because she would have cracked in two.
