I Cross My Heart

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  “No, I’m going to sell.” She glanced at him. “To you.”

  He froze. “You are?”

  “Yes. And I’ll tell you why. I can trust you not to tear everything down and start over.”

  “Who said anything about doing that?”

  “Morgan warned me about the possibility. She said, and rightly so, that a buyer might love the land and the view but not the structures. Most of the value is tied up in the land.”

  His heart continued to pound, but now he was dealing with the adrenaline rush of her announcement that he could buy the Triple G. He struggled to keep his wits about him. “You’ll have to tell me what that is. It might be out of my price range.”

  “It won’t be. Whatever you have to put down is fine, and we’ll work with the bank on the loan. It’s my property, so I could sell it to you for a dollar if I wanted to. That would look weird, though, so we’ll work out a deal that you can handle.”

  He took a deep breath and let it out slowly in an attempt to calm his racing pulse. “I’m not going to let false pride stand in my way, Bethany. I accept your generosity and I’ll be eternally grateful for it. I’ll buy all your previous books and any future books to prove my gratitude.”

  “Good grief, don’t go overboard! You hate my books.”

  “No, I don’t. Not anymore, at least. At one time I had you labeled as some fluff-brain who didn’t know what she was talking about, but now that I know you, I realize that you’re really smart and I could probably learn some things from your books.”

  She stared at him. “So you’re actually going to read them?”

  “I didn’t say that.” He grinned at her. “I just said I might learn something if I did. I might learn something if I read War and Peace, too, but that doesn’t mean I’m gonna do it.”

  “If I had something to throw at you, I would. Honestly, Nash.” But she chuckled, which meant she realized he was teasing her and wasn’t mad at him.

  “You can throw anything you want. Just don’t change your mind about selling me the Triple G.”

  “I won’t. I’ll call Morgan first thing in the morning and tell her what I’m up to. She wasn’t going to get the listing up until tomorrow anyway.”

  Nash gazed out at the dark and silent barn...his barn. His tractor barn, too, and his chicken coop. The porch they were sitting on would be his. “I can’t believe it. It’s not real to me.”

  “It’s not real to me, either.” She sighed. “But it’s the right thing to do. And I promise you I won’t change my mind.”

  “You’re sad.”

  She glanced over at him. “Not as sad as I would be if someone I didn’t know bought this place and bulldozed it.”

  “If you care about it so much, why not keep it?” He was an idiot for putting that thought in her mind, but his conscience forced him to.

  “I’ll be too far away to keep track of it. And too busy. I didn’t tell you before, but Opal Knightly has asked me to become a permanent part of her talk show. If that goes well...who knows? I might have my own show someday.”

  He sat in stunned silence for a moment. Although he wasn’t much of a TV watcher, even he knew Opal had a huge following. Everybody loved Opal, and she was one of the richest women in the country. “That’s...incredible, Bethany. What an opportunity. No wonder you want to get out from under this ranch.”

  “Yep. It’s all wrong for me, but it’s perfect for you.”

  “It is.” He continued to digest the news that she was about to become a TV celebrity on top of her bestselling-author status. If he’d considered her out of reach before, now she was a galaxy away. “What do you want me to do about the repairs?”

  “I’ve thought about that, too. The outbuildings need work, but repairing them wouldn’t change the look of the ranch too terribly much. This house, though, has potential. Morgan and I discovered hardwood floors under the old carpet.”

  “You did?” He struggled to focus on the conversation, but he was still thinking about the Opal bombshell She’d be appearing on TV five days a week. He could tune in and see her there. He wouldn’t, but he could.

  “Morgan ripped up one little section. Before I leave for Atlanta, I’d like you to help me fix up the house, at least a little bit. I haven’t seen it as it could be since I was a little girl, and I’d like that image to take with me.”

  “Sure. I’d be happy to do that.”

  She turned to him. “That might mean more work and less sex.”

  “However you want to play this, Bethany. You’ve just given me a whole new lease on life. However you want to roll is how we’ll do it.”

  “I’m not saying we won’t have any sex.”

  That made him smile. “Good to hear.” She might be headed for even greater fame and fortune, but she hadn’t left yet, and for some reason, she craved his body. He wasn’t going to turn down that kind of opportunity.

  He set his iced tea glass on the tray. “So what’s your pleasure? We have at least two hours before I have to leave. I’m at your service.” He forced himself not to anticipate, to be cool with whatever she asked for.

  She stood. “Let me show you the place where Morgan pulled up the carpet.”

  “Okay.” So it would be renovation, then. He was fine with that. He picked up his iced tea. Might as well polish it off before they got started.

  “And before I show you the floor...”

  He expected her to explain how they’d go about tearing out the carpet.

  “Let’s boink until we can’t see straight.”

  He spewed his mouthful of tea. This was turning into one hell of a night.

  9

  BETHANY’S TWIN BED LIMITED how many sexual positions they could reasonably enjoy, and for their second experience, she’d chosen to be the one on top. That had proven most satisfactory. In a postorgasmic daze, she lay slumped against Nash’s broad chest, her head nestled on his shoulder.

  He slid his hand over the curve of her rump and squeezed. “You have a terrific ass.”

  “Same to you.” She sighed happily. “Yours is very pinch-worthy, in fact.”

  “Is that so?” He pinched her hard enough to make her squeak in protest. “Fancy that,” he said. “Yours is, too.”

  “No fair. I can’t reach you.” She tried to slide her hand under him but he seemed welded to the mattress.

  Laughing, he grabbed her wrist. “Give it up, Ms. Grace. You shouldn’t have planted the idea in my head when your sweet fanny was sticking up in the air so temptingly.”

  With her free hand, she pushed on his chest until she was straddling him and sitting on the fanny in question, although they remained intimately linked. The firmness of his erection, she’d discovered to her delight, was slow to recede. “A gentleman wouldn’t have taken advantage of the situation,” she said. “I may have a bruise.”

  He gave her a smile filled with wicked intent. “I never claimed to be a gentleman. Think of that little bruise as a reminder that I was there.”

  She probably would, too. “Just know that I’ll be gunning for you, Bledsoe. Sometime when you least expect it, I’ll return the favor.”

  “With luck I’ll have sunk my cock deep inside you when that happens and I won’t mind a bit. But right now, you need to move so I can get up.”

  She eased away from him and he carefully climbed out without pushing her onto the floor. She recovered her balance and sat cross-legged on the bed. “This space restriction is getting old. We need room to spread out.”

  “I like the sound of that,” he said o
ver his shoulder as he walked into her bathroom. “What are our options?”

  She’d been thinking about it earlier as she’d imagined the night’s activities and another round of sex in her narrow bed. One answer would be to get rid of the old bed in her parents’ room and have a furniture store in Jackson deliver a king-size. But she couldn’t very well suggest that now that he would be the home’s new owner.

  “Here’s an idea,” he said, walking out of the bathroom. “I’ll need a new bed anyway. If you wouldn’t object, I could check and see if there’s any furniture store in Jackson that could deliver one tomorrow.”

  “My thought exactly! But it wasn’t my suggestion to make.”

  “So you wouldn’t care? We’d have to haul out your parents’ old bed.”

  “The sooner the better. In fact, I think almost all the furniture needs to go. Just tell me if there’s anything you want to keep.” The idea of starting fresh excited her.

  “The dining room table and chairs, unless you’re taking them.”

  “Nope. Not shipping furniture to Atlanta. At the most, I’ll have a couple of boxes of pictures and keepsakes sent there. The dining set is good quality, though, so I’m glad you want it.”

  He gazed at her. “And that bed.”

  “This one? Why?”

  Something in his expression told her exactly why, and she decided not to question him any further and expose his sentimental side. He might not appreciate that. “I suppose it would work for guests.”

  “Yeah. Always good to have a spare bed. Might as well leave me the sheets, too. Save me from buying some.”

  Maybe he was simply being practical, but she didn’t think so. She hadn’t studied psychology for years without learning something about people. He might eventually get rid of both the bed and the sheets when her memory had faded and he’d found someone to love, but for now it represented a significant change in his life and he wanted a reminder.

  “Anything else?” she asked. “Want to take a walk-through to refresh your memory?”

  “Sure. Let me put something on. I know we’re in the middle of the country with no one else around, but I’ve never been the kind of guy who walks around naked in his house.”

  She liked that he’d unconsciously mentioned that the house was his. “I’m not the kind of woman who does that, either.” She reached for her running shorts and halter top.

  “Now, see, I wouldn’t mind at all if you wanted to do that.” He winked at her as he pulled on his briefs and picked up his jeans.

  “Not my style.” She slipped into her running shorts. “Besides, I have this theory that if a woman parades around naked all the time, the man in her life will eventually become so used to seeing her without clothes on that it won’t arouse him anymore.”

  “I’d love to test that theory this week.” He focused on her bare breasts as he buttoned and zipped his jeans.

  “A week might not be long enough.”

  He glanced away. “No, probably not.” His tone was brisk, all the teasing gone.

  She fought a wave of sadness. Although she knew their time limit was a blessing in many ways, it was a curse in others. Happiness Is a Choice. Time to put her motto to a very tough test.

  While she tied her halter top, he shoved his arms into the sleeves of his shirt but left it unfastened. It was a sexy look on him. Of course, he looked sexy no matter what he had on or didn’t have on. The guy couldn’t look bad if he tried.

  “Let’s start with the kitchen.” She walked out of the bedroom barefoot and noticed that he did the same, which she found very cute. They were beginning to relax around each other. They were building a relationship whether they meant to or not.

  She gestured to the round wooden kitchen table and four chairs. “Do you want that?”

  He walked around it, viewing it from all sides. Then he braced both hands on the top and tried to wiggle it. The table barely moved. “Nice and solid. Just needs some refinishing. I’ll keep it.”

  “Okay.” She glanced down at the cracked linoleum. “This needs to come up but I’m more interested in working on the carpeting first.”

  “Your call.”

  She stood in the kitchen and thought about everything in the cupboards—her mother’s old pots and pans, the silverware her parents had been given as a wedding present, the good china, the crystal glasses. Then there was all the everyday stuff, including inexpensive glasses, regular dishes and stainless flatware.

  After living on her own for years, she’d invested in all that for herself. She didn’t need any of this, and although it had some sentimental value, she had no extra space in her Atlanta town house. “You can have anything in the cupboards you want,” she said.

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yes, unless you don’t want any of it.”

  “Bethany, I have nothing. I’d be happy to have all of it, but I don’t know if that’s fair to you.”

  “You’d be saving me a lot of trouble. If I sold to anyone else but you, I’d have to clean out those cupboards.”

  He nodded. “I see your point, but I still think you’re being incredibly generous with your stuff.”

  “Like I said, you’re making life easier for me.”

  “Okay, then.” He smiled at her. “Thank you.”

  “That means we don’t have to deal with anything in here for now, and the dining table stays, so let’s check out the living room. I’ll show you the little piece of hardwood flooring Morgan uncovered.”

  Nash followed her through the dining room and into what was her least favorite room in the house. It should have been a family gathering place, but instead it had been dominated by her father’s silent unhappiness. She remembered evenings when the television was the only noise in the room.

  The furniture reflected that dismal memory. The upholstery was stained and the television set was old and outdated. Even the coffee table was veneer on particle board instead of solid wood.

  Crouching down next to the flap of carpet Morgan had created, Bethany pulled hard and more dust flew. It made her sneeze, but she’d exposed a good square foot of wood flooring.

  Nash dropped to one knee and brushed away some of the grime. “This will be gorgeous. Definitely oak.”

  “That’s why I’d love to see it finished before I leave.” She stood. “So, does anything in here interest you?”

  He rose to his feet. “That’s a leading question if I ever heard one.”

  “I meant furniture, Bledsoe. Focus.”

  “Oh, I’m focused.” He gave her a long, slow once-over. “Extremely focused.”

  Her nipples tightened, pushing against the thin material of her red halter top. Warmth tinged her skin as her pulse began to pound.

  “Judging from the visual evidence,” he murmured, “so are you, sweetheart.”

  She sucked in a breath. “We’re almost finished with the furniture evaluation.”

  “Slave driver.” He gave her a crooked grin.

  “I just need to know what you want.”

  “I think you know exactly what I want.” He reached out and rubbed his thumb over her lower lip. “And how I want it.”

  She was so tempted to lead him right back into that bedroom, but that would end this discussion before she found out what she could get rid of tomorrow. She was impatient to clear the most horrible pieces out of here before he came back.

  “Humor me and check out the furniture in here, okay? Then I’m all yours.”

  “Promise?”

  “I cross my heart.” She made the age-old sign over her chest.

  He smiled. “That’s one of my favorite George Strait songs.”

  “Really?” She vaguely remembered it. “Why?”

  “It’s about promises, which I happen to believe are very important.”
He sighed. “That’s one of the reasons I had so much trouble giving up on my marriage. I’d promised.”

  “That’s admirable.” Emotion clogged her throat. Promises were a loaded subject for her. Her father had been a casual giver of promises that never came true. Here was a man who’d clung to a toxic marriage because he’d given his word.

  “Probably stupid, too,” he said.

  She shook her head. “No. Not stupid. It means you’re a guy who can be counted on.”

  “Thank you.” He met her gaze and held it.

  In that moment, she had the crazy thought that Nash was the sort of man a girl shouldn’t let get away.

  Then he broke eye contact. “Okay. Furniture.” He swept the room with one glance. “The TV’s not worth much, but the couch and chair aren’t too bad.”

  She cleared her throat. “Yes, they are. They’ve been here for twenty years, at least, maybe longer. The springs are shot and the upholstery’s ruined.”

  He took another look. “Yeah, but maybe if they were recovered, they could be salvaged.”

  Without meaning to, she made a little sound of distress.

  He studied her. “You want all this out of here, don’t you?”

  Although she had her mouth open to say “hell, yes,” she realized that he was the one who’d be replacing the furniture, not her. If he could get a good deal on reupholstering the couch and chair, he might save money. Maybe he didn’t care that the coffee table was cheap veneer.

  If she couldn’t have all this hauled away tomorrow, tearing out the carpet wouldn’t be as easy, but she could still do it by moving the hateful furniture around. “It’s up to you, Nash.”

  His blue eyes twinkled. “You should see your face. It’s all kind of pinched in, as if you had to force those words out of your sweet little mouth.”

  “Hey.” She couldn’t help smiling because he was absolutely right. “I may despise this furniture and dream of taking a sledgehammer to it, but—”

  “Or a can of gasoline and a butane lighter?”

  “No, I won’t try that again. Furniture doesn’t burn the way it used to. I should have used a sledgehammer on that recliner.”