by Siera London
“Wondered if I could cut out an hour early? There’s a new band playing at Diego’s tonight.”
As a music therapy major, Autumn took every opportunity to support the local artists as well as the variety of guest musicians traveling through the town’s only live music venue.
“Sure thing,” he said.
Thinking their conversation over, he turned to leave.
“Owen, who’s the new girl?”
“Her name’s Ivy.”
Autumn waited for him to say more. Owen found he didn’t want to say too much about Ivy. He felt protective of her. If she wanted Autumn to know more, then he was sure Ivy could do her own talking.
“Hmmm,” came Autumn’s soft reply. Again, Owen turned to walk away when he heard Autumn say, “Cai said she stayed the night.”
Dag nab it. He needed to have a talk with Cai, the little chatterbox. His son had divulged enough information for one day, first the bar-b-q toast with Ivy this morning, and now about their overnight guest with Autumn.
Autumn’s brown eyes, as warm and welcoming as her name, flashed with concern. Owen grimaced. In all the months he’d known her, their friendship had been transparent. No doubt, she questioned what Ivy’s arrival signaled in his life. Heck if Owen knew. From the moment she’d sat at his table, he knew he wanted her. Why that was so, he refused to question his inner workings. There was nothing wrong with a grown man enjoying the company of a full-grown, sexy-as-a-late-night-storm woman.
“She did,” he confirmed. Immediately, his brain took him back to Ivy standing in his hallway wearing one of her t-shirts, her legs bare. His blood heated. He tried to keep his body relaxed but failed. Autumn’s audible gasp sounded, and he knew.
She stared at him in shock. Was his attraction to the little spitfire obvious?
“Oh no,” she breathed. “Owen, how?”
The answer was yes. This time he welcomed the tension that consumed his body.
“Don’t worry. She’ll be gone soon.”
If possible, Autumn’s expression became more grave.
“That’s makes me worry more. You can’t keep your eyes off of her.”
Owen straightened his spine, not liking the implications. “I can handle Ivy Summers.”
No sooner than the words had left his mouth, loud voices, mostly male started to climb in the far corner of the bar.
Assuming a few of the guys had consumed one beer too many, he didn’t immediately respond. Most of the locals liked to egg one another on, but the bluster usually piped down before fists started to flow. Owen prided himself on running a drama-free establishment. The cowboys saved the fisticuffs for the streets, not his bar.
Something drew Autumn’s attention. When her mouth dropped open, Owen followed her line of sight, and his lungs seized, seconds before a roar built in the back of his throat.
“Put me down,” his woman screeched.
Ivy’s panicked voice cut away the noise in the room. His heart thumped against his rib cage. Who dared to put a hand on his Ivy? Yes, his Ivy. She was his responsibility to protect.
Red crowded his vision.
That was the only word to describe the rage boiling in his veins when he saw Ivy tossed over one of the customer’s shoulders. He advanced on his patrons like a charging bull. The crowd split faster than the Red Sea, and Owen was ready to rain down an unholy terror on the man who’d touched her.
Owen got to the center of the crowd, just as some buffed up meathead with overlong blonde dreadlocks and a scruffy beard whirled Ivy around in his arms.
“Stop it, you nut tart,” Ivy bellowed at the top of her lungs.
Owen didn’t recognize any of the men at the table. The thing about a small town was strangers stuck out like a priest at the racetrack. And the man holding Ivy, would be considered a stud. The guy probably was used to intimidating others based on his size alone. Owen grew up in these mountains. Boys learned early in life to defend themselves against all threats, four-legged and two. He could bench press twice his weight and pissing him off added another seventy-pounds to that number.
“Put her down,” Owen growled.
“Dude—,”
That was the only word he got out before Owen snatched Ivy from his arms and tucked her into his side.
“You okay, sweetheart?”
Though Ivy held a brave face, he felt the tremors in her limbs.
She nodded but remained silent. He’d pound this—what had she called him, nut tart into the ground. Owen curled the fingers on his right hand into a fist.
“All of you,” he said, letting pure menace and brutal intent enter his voice. “Get out. Don’t come back.”
Blondie looked to his friends, who watched the confrontation with eager eyes.
“Look, dude,” he grinned. “We were just having a bit of fun, with little Ivy.”
She stiffened at the suggestive tone lacing his voice. His buddies still occupying the booth chuckled. Owen pulled her in closer to his warmth, using his body as comfort.
“Time’s up.”
Rearing back his fist, Owen delivered one punch to the pretty boy’s chin and the heavyweight dropped faster than a soufflé. When blondie’s friends saw he was out like a blown lightbulb, Owen gave a second warning.
“Who’s next?”
All of a sudden, the booth cleared like roaches under bright lights. Two of the silent partners scooped up Blondie on the way out. Raging bull mad, Owen wanted to go after each one of them. Ivy must have felt his muscles coil in anticipation.
“I’m safe, Owen. Stay here with me.”
Yeah, he reminded himself. Ivy was safe in his arms. He pulled her in close, dropping a kiss to her fragrant curls. Man, he was a goner.
IVY swallowed the lump in her throat, still unsure how the dreadlocked nut tart had gotten his hands on her. Usually she was so careful when in the company of men. Sure, she flirted but she didn’t do laps, pats, or rubs.
Everything about Owen Tate and his charming body had her off her game. Her mother would have been disappointed that Ivy had brought trouble to her man. Because of her carelessness, Owen had hit a man. A woman should make life easier for her man, she could hear her mom’s words. For all her mom’s lessons, Crystal Summers had spent her life dependent on a man for her worth, her next meal, and a roof over her head.
She’d watched from the corner of her eye while Owen stood over by the bar talking to another woman. Ivy had struggled to keep her smile from slipping. So, he enjoyed the company of more than one female, she’d thought. She should have known he was too good to be true. Again, she blamed those darn sweet potato muffins. Next time, she’d keep the baked goodies to herself.
“Ivy.” Owen’s large finger glided under her chin and lifted. “Are you hurt?”
They had entered the kitchen. Ivy lifted herself up on both forearms and deposited her bottom on the smooth countertop. Luke and Hank had taken over getting the regulars back in their seats.
“I should get back out there,” she said sliding to her feet to stand in front of him.
He stopped her. He circled her waist and placed her back on the counter. “Answer my question.”
Why did he have to investigate everything?
She tried to sidestep away. “I’m fine,’ she huffed. “I should go check on the floor.”
“Something’s bothering you beyond those yahoos,” he challenged, not letting the subject drop. “And Autumn will take care of the bar.”
The woman who’d been talking with Owen had grabbed a tray and started serving customers before he’d taken Ivy out of the dining area. Amazingly, Owen seemed real comfortable with her jumping right in and taking over. He’d lost his wife two years ago. Had Autumn fulfilled the desires Owen obviously had?
The mention of the other woman reminded Ivy how much it bothered her to see Owen with another woman. True, he only offered her a job out of necessity, but a spark existed between them. It upset her see evidence of another woman in his life.
“I don’t need you to coddle me, Owen Tate. I can take care of myself,” she snapped.
“Never implied you couldn’t, but a man takes care of his woman.”
His woman?
“Isn’t Autumn the babysitter?” she asked.
He narrowed his eyes on her. “She works here sometimes too.”
Well, that was vague. Ivy worked at No Limit sometimes too, yet Owen had no problem touching her at every opportunity. Did he share the same type of relationship with the cute redhead?
“Below or above stairs?” she demanded, holding his gaze.
He frowned. “Both.”
Ivy’s heart plummeted into her boots. So, he admitted there was something between him and Autumn. She shook off his hold.
“I’m fine,” she said, hopping off the kitchen counter where he’d placed her.
Before she could take one step, he had an arm around her waist.
“Don’t think so.”
Gripping his massive forearm, she pushed. He didn’t budge.
“Let go, Owen.”
With one arm he lifted her off the ground. Ivy yelped.
“Hey,” she protested.
His strength fascinated her. Never had a man come to her rescue with such brute force, and then touch her with such tenderness.
“Explain yourself.”
He was the one that needed to explain. How could he tease her, and then bring the other woman in her face? Ivy made no qualms about capitalizing on her every advantage, but she didn’t do love triangles. Her heart fluttered at the word love. It would be easy to fall for a man like Owen, if he were faithful. Autumn dashed that hope.
“Look you’re hot, Owen. There’s enough hormone juice flowing between us, I could bottle the stuff, but,” she paused, “I can’t get mixed up with you and Autumn.”
Owen studied her for a moment, eyes hard. Then, to her surprise, he started to laugh. His body shook with the effort. Now, he found her feelings humorous?
“Ivy,” he smiled, wiping at his eyes. “Autumn is strictly Cai’s babysitter.”
Her mouth dropped open, stunned. She felt a warm heat infuse her cheeks. “Seriously? I’m pretty good at reading people. You two were in a heated conversation.”
He placed her in front of him, pinning her body between his broad chest and the counter.
He twerked her nose with his index finger. “We talked about you.”
“Yes,” he continued. “Autumn’s concerned about this hormone flow between us, too.”
Crossing her arms over her chest, Ivy narrowed her eyes. “Cai’s babysitter is considerate,” she said with mock appreciation.
Owen’s blue eyes sparkled with new awareness. “You’re jealous.”
Bet his tight butt, she was. “I’m not.”
He dropped his head, bringing his lips close to her ear. “Liar.”
“Tease.”
He chuckled. “I promise, sweetheart. I put out.”
She bet he did. And her body was open for whatever service he wanted to provide.
“So, she’s only here for Cai?”
Cause she had plans for Cai’s daddy, a very big daddy from the hardness of him pressing into her belly.
“Woman,” he said dropping a kiss to her lips. “Are you always this jealous?”
She closed her eyes, so afraid of what his touch had unleashed. For years, she’d survived without needing another soul, not Dean, not Trevor, not Johnny, not her father who’d walked out on them, not her mother who almost ceased to exist afterward each man tossed them aside.
“Yes,” she whispered, dropping her head.
When Owen cupped her face and lifted, she didn’t resist.
“I won’t give you a reason, Ivy.”
“Promise?” Could she risk putting her trust in another man? She wanted to believe. Wanted to trust Owen, but...
“When the time comes, I’ll love you so thoroughly, other women will burn with envy, sweetheart.” Her breath stalled. “I promise,” he said lowering his mouth to hers.
Ivy arched the slender column of her neck allowing him to deepen the kiss. With gentle coaxing, she opened welcoming his tongue. Sighing with contentment, she wasn’t prepared when he thrust deep, angling her head to form a sure seal. This wasn’t a kiss, he was branding her, outside and in. As pleasure burst in her mouth, Ivy surrendered. Even as her brain registered a shift between her and Owen, a small voice whispered, you can’t stay.
CHAPTER SIX
Owen hadn’t touched another woman since Caitlyn’s death. Now, he couldn’t seem to keep his giant paws off of Ivy. He wanted to touch her, erase any trace of Blondie’s hands on her skin. Interesting, the boulder that had taken up residence in his chest since the call about Caitlyn’s death didn’t bear as much weight tonight. Oh, it was still there, but not as crushing. Did Ivy’s arrival have something to do with this new sense of relief? He held her hand as they climbed the stairs together. Cai should be asleep, but he knew better. Since Caitlyn’s death, Cai needed to see either him or Autumn before he closed his eyes. When they passed the master bedroom, Ivy’s steps faltered. He wanted to take her to his bed, but he wanted her to be sure. He never wanted to look at her and see regret in her eyes.
“Owen.” Her voice held a hint of question.
Squeezing their intertwined fingers, he tugged her forward.
“Let’s check on Cai. He can’t sleep until he sees me.”
“Oh,” she said, a note of sadness infusing the words. No doubt, she was thinking of all he and Cai had lost with his wife’s death.
“He’s better,” Owen reassured her.
“Are you?”
He stopped. Turning, he took both of her hands in his. He told her his deepest hope. “I want to be.”
For the first year, Owen hadn’t wanted anything to change about his life, even though Caitlyn was gone. Logically he knew she was lost to him, but his heart was lost with her. He’d promised her forever. Forever had been taken away from him after six years of marriage. The only reason he got out of bed that first year was because his little boy needed a father.
“I want that for you, Owen.”
He bent to kiss her. Man, she was so giving. He’d never met a woman like her. “You taste so sweet, Ivy Summers,” he said raising his head. “Don’t change a thing.”
“Daddy,” Cai’s sleepy voice called.
“I’m here, buddy.”
“Can Ivy read my bedtime story?”
Owen felt her fingers go stiff. What in the heck?
“What’s wrong?” he whispered.
“Nothing,” she said too quickly, averting her eyes.
“Daddy, can she?”
Studying Ivy’s profile in the soft warmth of the bathroom light, Owen frowned.
“Hold on, Cai.” He turned back to her. “Ivy, tell me.”
She gave him a shaky smile. “You go, I don’t want to intrude.”
When she tried to separate their hands, he yanked her into his arms. Was the possibility of a package deal too much for her? This afternoon, when she’d thought of his son, not him, he’d seen something different in her. Other women had expressed their interests in him, but he could tell when they weren’t too keen on raising another woman’s son.
“He wants to see you.”
Her face softened, yet he could tell something was holding her back.
“Ivy,” Cai called. “Do you like The Land of Do As You Please?”
Ivy looked to Owen for guidance.
“His favorite Charlotte S. Grant book.”
She bit her lip, and then she succeeded in extricating her hand from his. He wouldn’t force her. Any woman that wanted to be in his life had to accept Cai.
Ivy walked, albeit on shaky legs, to Cai’s open door. “I...ah, never read that one, baby.”
“Oh, wow. Daddy we can teach Ivy. She can’t do as she please.”
They both laughed. Either Autumn or Cai had pulled the book from the shelf. Cai’s room was exactly as Caitlyn had left
it. A racer bed, with Ironman drapes and coverlet. Cai wanted the entire room painted red, but Owen had put his foot down at one accent wall. At least, Caitlyn had called it an accent wall when one of the three walls bore a different color.
Cai placed the book in Ivy’s hand. She rubbed her hand over the cover as if studying Braille. He watched in confusion when she flipped through each page, lines of concentration marring her pensive features.
“Cai... I might mess up a few of the words, okay,” she said shooting a glance in Owen’s direction. “I need you to help me.”
Realization hit Owen like a frozen slab of beef. She was nervous about reading in front of him.
Cai’s eyes lit with delight. One thing about his son, he liked to help.
“Yes,” he beamed, clapping his hands.
“Ivy, I could—,”
“I can do it, Owen.”
Pride swelled in his chest. She’d shared her vulnerability with him, and he would stand beside her in support.
Moving closer, he placed one hand on her shoulder in encouragement. When she reached up and covered his hand with hers, he felt like he’d won the biggest teddy bear at the Sacramento County Fair.
Ten minutes later the story was done, and Cai was sound asleep. On quiet feet, they exited the room and partially closed the door. Cai’s nightlight cast a shimmery shadow around their feet. Except for the whirl of the ceiling fan mounted in his bedroom the hallway was quiet.
“I’m dyslexic, Owen.” She dropped her head in embarrassment. “Was nine-years old before I could read with any fluency. The place my mom and I stayed sometimes...helped me out with a phonemic chart. I had a Smartpen, but it got stolen awhile back.”
She seemed to shrink before him. What the heck did she expect him to do, criticize her? Beyond the fact that the learning disability impacted the capacity to connect letters with their corresponding sound, Owen knew very little about dyslexia. What he knew for sure. Ivy Summers was intelligent. School must have been challenging. Kids were observant and vocal. He commended her ability to stick it out, to learn even in the face of difficulty.
