by Mia Ross
“Okay.” Leaning back against the porch column, he fixed her with a no-nonsense look. “You’re fired.”
“That’s not funny,” she huffed, barely resisting the urge to smack him.
“I’m not kidding.”
“You’d fire me so we can go for a ride? That’s nuts.”
“I can get a lawyer outta the phone book,” he reasoned. “You, sweetheart, are one of a kind.”
“I really hate that name,” she reminded him curtly. “Can’t you come up with something else?”
He studied her briefly. “Babe.”
“Worse.”
“Shortcake.”
“Insulting,” she shot back.
Now he was grinning, and she realized he was enjoying their battle of wits immensely. “How ’bout punkin?”
She gave him her sternest lawyer’s stare, which only made him laugh. He didn’t shift from his casual pose, didn’t even remotely hint at touching her. But something in his manner changed, making it clear he had every intention of getting closer eventually. Much closer.
“I haven’t heard from you since you left here a week ago,” she challenged, stalling for time to think. It had actually been eight days, but she didn’t want him to think she’d been counting them. “What changed?”
“It was eight days,” he corrected her. “And I missed you.”
I missed you, too! she wanted to shout, but she held back. The fact that he’d counted the time they were apart made her heart do a little flip. He wouldn’t have done that if he didn’t really like her. Would he?
The more mature part of her shoved in, reminding her that offering her heart to someone gave him a chance to shred it and toss it back.
After some serious internal battling, she called it a draw. “Why me?”
Heaving a frustrated sigh, he shook his head. “I have no idea. Maybe you can help me figure it out,” he added with a wry grin.
It was the grin that did it. To her knowledge, she’d never baffled any man she’d met. It was flattering to discover she had even a smidgen of the feminine mystique she’d read about in all those gushy romance novels.
Before she could analyze the whole thing to death, she said, “I’ve never been on a motorcycle.”
The grin widened, and a rare flicker of mischief lit his eyes. “I can fix that.”
“I’m a mess, though. Give me a few minutes?”
“Sure.”
“I’d invite you in, but the place is a disaster.”
He looked over her head at her disheveled living room. “Looks like daisies in there.”
She waited for the punch line, but it never came. “And?”
“It’s pretty,” he replied with a shrug. “It suits you.”
She could feel a blush creeping up her cheeks, and she was glad he couldn’t see it. “Thanks. I won’t be long.”
“No rush. If you bring me a bulb, I’ll replace this one.”
She had no idea where she’d put the spare lightbulbs, so she unscrewed one from a wall sconce and handed it to him. Then she hurried upstairs and took a quick shower to remove the worst of the paint from her skin. A few stubborn specks clung to her hands and arms, but a quick look in the mirror assured her there weren’t any on her face. She looped her wet hair into a ponytail and pulled on jeans and a faded pink Life is good T-shirt.
As she did the clasp on the silver necklace she’d bought that morning, she silently cautioned her excited reflection to at least pretend to be cool. She’d spent a lot of time hemming and hawing over Matt, and she didn’t want him picking up on her dilemma. It would only make him unbearable. One minute she thought he was a bad boy with a heart of gold. The next, her pragmatic side reminded her of three very good reasons she couldn’t get involved with him.
Client. Wanderer. Faithless.
He’d taken care of the first, and the second she could work around. The third, not so much. She’d made that mistake with David, and she had no intention of repeating it.
The seesaw thing was pretty much pointless, since she’d been trained to debate all angles of any subject. One thing she couldn’t deny: when Matt showed up on her porch tonight, she was ridiculously happy to see him. She was either falling for him or she needed to get out more. Maybe both.
Pushing yet another unanswerable question aside, she all but skipped down the stairs and out the front door.
“Much better,” she said, approving of the new light. Then she frowned. “I really need to paint these old floorboards.”
“Tomorrow,” he said, handing her the spare helmet. “Is that a new necklace?”
“Yeah, I bought it today.” She held out the silver circle so he could see it.
“‘If you can believe, all things are possible.’” He read the inscription out loud. “I’ve seen that somewhere before.”
It’s from the Bible, she wanted to say. But she settled for, “It’s one of my favorite sayings.”
“Pretty.”
“Thanks. I left the windows open to vent the house,” she said as she climbed onto the back of his bike. “Is it supposed to rain?”
“Nope.”
With that, he swiveled her visor closed, effectively telling her to shut up. But she was so jazzed about actually being on a big, bad Harley, she decided to let it go. He grasped the handlebars and kicked the engine into gear. She’d seen enough people on bikes to know she was supposed to wrap her arms around him and lean against his back. Suddenly shy, she hesitated, and he glanced over his shoulder at her.
Reaching down, he patted one of the handles welded to the frame by her seat. It seemed less intimate, so she went with that. Once they were out of town, he sped up and she felt as if she was going to fly right off the bike. Finally she decided it wasn’t a hug, it was survival, and she slid her arms around his waist. Now that she was shielded from the wind, she could actually enjoy the sensation of the world rushing past.
Exhilarating and a little terrifying, it was like nothing she’d ever experienced. She loved the open-air feeling of her convertible, but this was a notch beyond that. It actually felt as though they were flying over the road, rather than rolling on top of it.
When they reached the ridge, she got off and popped her helmet loose. “Okay, now I get the whole motorcycle thing. That was so cool.”
Still astride the seat, Matt removed his helmet and grinned at her. “Glad you liked it. Most women don’t.”
“How many times do I have to tell you?” she retorted while she restrung her disheveled ponytail. “I’m not like most women.”
“Good to know.” He looked out over the valley with a sigh. “I love this place. My buddies and I used to camp up here. Fish all day, cook whatever we caught over a campfire and just hang. No girls,” he added before she could ask.
“Sounds perfect.” She found a boulder with a bowl-shaped dip in the top and settled in, admiring the view. “This is really beautiful.”
“You’ve never been up here?” he asked, stretching out on the ground in front of the rock. He seemed to be going out of his way to give her some space, which made her more comfortable. Considering her schoolgirl reaction to what he’d said earlier, keeping her distance from him seemed like the smart thing to do.
“I wasn’t allowed. It was make-out central, and my grandparents didn’t want me getting into trouble.”
Matt chuckled. “Yeah, it was one of John’s favorite spots.”
They sat quietly for a while, and Caty felt the knots in her sore muscles unravel as the peaceful evening air settled around her. Night birds gliding overhead called out to each other, their voices blending with hundreds of frogs and crickets to echo through the air.
Far removed from the hectic pace she’d kept up for so long, she closed h
er eyes and just breathed.
“Caty, can I ask you something personal?”
Without opening her eyes, she smiled. “Sure.”
“What happened with David?”
She opened her eyes to see him still staring out over the valley. “Nothing, really. We just wanted different things.”
“Were you together a long time?”
“Almost four years. We met in law school and then worked at the same firm in Boston. At the time, it seemed like the ideal arrangement.”
“What changed?” he asked casually, as if they were talking about the weather. But she’d learned something about him in the past few weeks. The more distant he tried to appear, the harder the subject was for him to talk about.
“David started wanting different things, is all. He liked the money and prestige that came with being an attorney at a big firm. I saw it as a way to get experience so I could open my own practice someday.”
“You were smarter than him.”
She laughed. “What makes you say that?”
“Most guys can’t be with a woman who’s smarter than them. Makes ’em feel insecure.”
“I never really thought about it,” Caty admitted. “Our main argument was over God.”
That got Matt’s attention, and he spun to face her. Slinging an arm over his bent knee, he said, “Really? Why?”
“I believed, he didn’t. There’s really not any middle ground.”
After a pause, Matt said, “I still do, you know.”
Even though she knew perfectly well what he meant, she wanted him to say it. “Do what?”
“Believe in God,” he confessed with a scowl. “Sometimes I think it’d be easier if I didn’t. You can’t get ignored by someone who doesn’t exist.”
The raw emotion in his voice broke her heart. “What makes you think He ignored you?”
Another pause, warning her they were on painful ground.
“When Mom got sick, Dad told me God would work miracles. You just had to ask. So every morning and every night, I got down on my knees and prayed for her to get better.” He swallowed so hard, she could almost feel it. “The day we buried her was the last time I ever set foot in a church. God ignored me, and I returned the favor.”
If there was any chance for them to have a future, this was a pivotal moment. Inspiration struck, and Caty asked, “Who chose your name?”
“Mom,” he answered with a puzzled look. “Why?”
“Do you know what it means?”
“Nope.”
He looked down when he said it. Anybody with ten minutes of psych training would know it meant he was lying, but she decided to let it go.
“It means ‘beloved of God.’ You were her first child, and she didn’t give you that name by mistake.” Reaching out, she gently touched his cheek. “She wanted you to feel that always, Matthew.”
He uncoiled from his casual position and settled a hand on either side of her, effectively trapping her between his massive arms. The remote interest in his eyes deepened to an intensity that should have frightened her. The fact that it didn’t meant something, but she didn’t have time to ponder that right now.
“Why do you call me that?” he asked so quietly she almost didn’t hear him.
She wasn’t afraid of him because he’d proven time and again he’d never hurt her. But she was very much afraid of how deeply she could see into him when he was this close. She had a feeling it scared him, too.
“No one calls me that. Anymore,” he added, a child’s anguish flooding his eyes.
It was the name his mother had used.
Caty knew it with an aching certainty she’d seldom felt. While she searched for a way to ease the pain she’d caused him, he edged closer. She knew she should move away, but she couldn’t make herself do it.
“No one’s ever looked at me the way you do,” he murmured, looking as bewildered as she felt. “You see something in me.”
Stunned by the conviction in his voice, she could only nod.
“What?” His chest pressed into hers, and she felt the insistent beating of his heart. “What do you see?”
“A good heart,” she heard herself say. Groaning inwardly, she waited for him to laugh.
He didn’t.
“Most folks think I don’t have one.”
“They’re wrong,” she said indignantly, angry with the faceless people who’d made him feel like less than he was. “You have an amazing heart. It just takes a little effort to get through.”
“Is that what you’re after? To get through?”
He hadn’t moved, but she could feel the warmth of his skin through his shirt. A current of awareness coursed along every nerve, making her feel as though she’d been spinning in circles and had suddenly stopped.
Somehow she assembled enough sense to shoot back, “I’m not after anything.”
“I know.” In the near darkness, she saw him smile. “That’s what I like most about you.”
When his mouth settled over hers, she gladly let the wave of emotions sweep her away. Falling for Matt Sawyer was quite possibly the biggest risk she’d ever take in her life. And she didn’t care.
Chapter Ten
Filthy and so tired his bones felt like pudding, Matt dragged himself in from another round of haying. One perk of this farming thing: he was in better shape than when he’d been hitting a gym four days a week. But he was done for the week, and even though he would have happily fallen right into bed, he’d let John talk him into going to the short-track races out at the fairgrounds. Honestly, it wasn’t that tough. Matt hadn’t been to a race yet, and the season was almost over.
After a quick shower, he dialed Caty’s number. They hadn’t been together since their ride, and he hadn’t talked to her all week. He actually missed hearing her voice. Accustomed to taking care of only himself, he wasn’t used to feeling this way. It didn’t sit well yet, but when she answered the phone, he felt a lot better.
“I take it this means the hay is in,” she said.
“Finally. How are your floors?”
“Done and sealed. The guy on HGTV says I can walk on them Monday.”
Even though the words sounded like her, something was off. Maybe it was the phone.
He chuckled. “Congratulations. John and I are going out to the fairgrounds for the races. Wanna come?”
“That’s right, it’s Saturday. So that’s where all the neighbors are.”
“You forgot what day it is?” he teased.
“You’d think I’d figure it out when my house is the only one in town with lights on. Thanks for thinking of me, but I’m totally shot. I’m headed upstairs for bed.”
Thanks for thinking of me? That was the kind of thing you said when you were blowing someone off. When you’d rather gnaw off your own arm than spend any amount of time with them, but were too nice to come right out and say it.
“Something wrong?” he asked.
“Just tired.”
“You’ve been working way too hard. Come have some fun.”
“I think I’ve had enough fun for a while.”
There was a warning note in her voice he didn’t like. When it came to people, especially women, he always fared better face-to-face. He could read her expression and figure out what was really going on.
“Why don’t I grab some supper and come by? We’ll have something to eat and—”
“No,” she cut him off sharply. “Do not come over here.”
That was pretty clear, but he was still confused. “Okay, I give up. What’s going on?”
She let out a sigh that crackled in the phone. “Are you serious?”
Caught off guard by her attitude, he fell back on
a classic guy’s excuse. “I’m not a mind reader. Spell it out for me.”
“I haven’t heard from you all week,” she shot back, irritation clear through the static in the line. “I took that to mean you were done with me.”
Done? Matt’s chest seized up tight, and he rubbed at what he thought was a pulled muscle. It didn’t help.
“I’ve been busy,” he explained.
“So have I. That’s not the problem, and you know it.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
Silence.
It stretched on for what felt like forever. When she finally spoke, he heard tears in her voice. Tears he’d caused, even though he’d done everything he knew not to hurt her. “That night at the pond, I thought we connected.”
“We did.” It killed him to admit it, but it was true. That was the night he’d realized just how special she was. He should have told her, but something always seemed to stop him. Timing. Circumstances. Blind fear.
“Then we started working on things together. My house, Ethan’s estate. Even though it was tough sometimes, I thought we had fun.”
“We did.”
“Things seemed to be going well. Slow but well. I understand being careful, believe me. Then up at the ridge…” Her voice trailed off, then turned on him with a bite. “Whenever we start getting closer, you pull away. Maybe other women are willing to chase after you, but I’m not.”
He knew she had a temper—it had even been directed his way more than once. But this was more than anger. It sounded as if she’d given up on him.
Hoping to smooth his way out of trouble, he said, “I know I’m not easy. I’m working on it.”
“Matthew, at your age, you should pretty much be done.”
With that, she hung up.
Stunned by the nasty turn their conversation had taken, he eventually hung up, too. For a few minutes he stared at the phone. Expecting to hear her unique country-ballad ring, see her number on the caller ID. Waiting for her to call and tell him she understood and would be patient with him while he sorted things out. But she didn’t.
