by Jane Porter
“I’d agreed initially, but once things firmed up with Tutro, there was no way I could fulfill the bid requirements so I had to back out.”
“You don’t intend to come back?”
“Not often. At least, not in the beginning. There is going to be too much to do the first couple of months.”
“So you won’t be here tomorrow night for the auction?”
“I will. I’ve promised Reese I’ll pitch in behind the bar. I think he’s got me pouring drinks tomorrow night upstairs.”
“That’s good. That’ll make the girls happy. Quite a few of them bought tickets just to see you.”
“You’re making that up.”
“No. I heard them myself, talking at the diner.”
“Maybe you heard wrong.”
“I’m pretty sure I heard right. Dillon Sheenan. Six foot four, black hair, green eyes—”
“Not green. Brown.”
She leaned forward, stared intently into his eyes. “Not brown. But not green, either. More...gold.”
“Gold?”
“Amber.”
“Amber?”
She smiled and a dimple flashed. “Not a fan of amber, either? How about whiskey? You do like whiskey. Is that better?”
“As long as you don’t let my brothers hear you.” He couldn’t help smiling as his gaze skimmed her face, taking in that soft mouth, the pink flush in her cheeks, the bright blue eyes. She really was everything he shouldn’t want.
Nice girl.
Single mom.
Sister-in-law’s best friend.
But Paige was also the one woman who’d somehow managed to get under his skin. Good thing he was leaving town Tuesday. When she smiled at him like that, eyes crinkling at the corners, lips curving, he couldn’t focus on anything but her.
Making her smile. Hearing her laugh.
She was the kind of woman who deserved a really good husband, a husband who’d protect her, and spoil her, and make sure she was happy. Troy and Trey had gone to school with Lewis and they’d said he was a good person and he’d grown into an even better man. But then Lewis died in a climbing accident, leaving Paige to raise their two young kids on her own.
Dillon understood accidents happened. Brock’s first wife had died when their twins were just six months old, but that didn’t make tragedies any easier. He’d heard bits and pieces through the grapevine and he knew Paige struggled sometimes, trying to make ends meet. According to McKenna, Paige’s Victorian was a money pit, too, and the endless repairs wouldn’t be so bad if she had a husband who was handy with tools, but she didn’t. Nor did she have a clue.
He drained what was left of the whiskey and signaled to Reese he wanted another drink.
Reese pointed to Paige. Paige shook her head—she didn’t want anything to drink, and she had the tickets. “I should go,” she said, sounding reluctant. “Rescue the kids.”
“Where are they?”
“With your brother.”
He laughed. “Trey’s got them?”
She nodded. “McKenna offered to take them since I had to work tonight and then she ended up booking a Valentine’s boudoir session.” She paused, eyes gleaming. “You know what this is. Sexy girlfriend photos in lingerie.”
“Ah.”
Her eyes danced and her lips curved, dimple flashing. “Have any of your girlfriends done that for you?”
Her smile and the dimple were his undoing. She deserved someone who would give her the sun and the moon and all the stars between.
So easy to like her. So hard to resist her. She wasn’t a girl, but a woman, and that’s what appealed to him.
Thank God he had self-control because she was absolutely, one hundred percent off-limits.
Paige grabbed her purse and slid off the stool. “See you tomorrow night?”
He nodded and stood. “Where are you parked?”
“Right out front.”
“I’ll walk you out.”
“No. I’m literally right out the front door. Open door, there’s my car. It’s brightly lit. But I appreciate the offer. Very chivalrous.” She smiled at him then, a wide easy smile that scrunched her nose and put fine creases at her eyes. “Night.”
“Night. Drive safe.”
“Always.”
And then she was gone, buttoning up her coat and giving him a quick wave as she headed for the door.
Crazy, he thought, watching her walk out of Grey’s, how even on a dark frigid Montana night Paige glowed golden, all honey and sunlight.
He would miss her when he returned to Austin, but at the same time, it’d be good to go to a big city with lots of women...lots of possibilities. Maybe once in Austin he’d meet someone new and then he could finally let this silly crush on Paige go.
As the heavy wood door shut behind her, he turned around and sat back down on his stool and discovered a neat shot of tequila waiting for him.
He frowned at the shot glass and then looked over at Reese on the other side of the counter. “Who is this from?” he asked.
“Me.”
“Why?”
“It’s my sympathy and goodbye gift rolled into one.”
“Sympathy?”
“You’ve carried a torch for her for so damn long.”
Dillon cleared his throat. “And the goodbye part?”
“I heard you say you were leaving Tuesday.” Reese set the cocktails and pints of beer on the counter for the cocktail waitress and then wiping his hands on a towel, walked towards Dillon. “Is that this Tuesday?”
“Yeah.”
“And the ranch?”
“Trey’s got it well in hand.”
“Good enough.”
Reese poured himself a tequila and they tossed them back together.
Chapter 2
Paige picked up a sleepy Addison and Tyler from Trey and McKenna’s big new stacked stone and log house that was part of a new subdivision of equally big, handsome, custom homes on the east side of Highway 89. Each parcel in the gated community was three quarters of an acre, with the homes laid out on curving cul-de-sacs, creating a neighborly feel.
Five members of McKenna’s family had been murdered when she was thirteen on her family’s ranch in Paradise Valley and McKenna craved the safety of town, which is why she and Trey had bought the house in Copper Mountain Heights. The gated community definitely made her feel safer with their private round the clock security detail, but for Paige, it was a hassle trying to come and go, always having to check in with the guards at the huge gate.
While owning a new house would be less stressful, Paige loved her turn of the century Victorian on Bramble Lane.
Well, loved and hated the Victorian as the house needed constant repairs, but it was a piece of Montana history and also within walking distance to Crawford Park, the library, downtown businesses, along with the fairgrounds for the Copper Mountain rodeo each September.
In California she’d had to drive everywhere and one of the perks of living on Bramble was that she could walk to work and her kids could walk to school—as long as they went with some of the older kids since Tyler tended to get lost in his head and forget about his younger sister, and cars, and icy sidewalks...
Thank goodness seven-year-old Addison had a good head on her shoulders. She was far better at keeping track of Tyler, and keeping him out of danger, than the other way around.
As usual the house was freezing when they got home and Paige had to bang on the furnace a couple of times to get it to kick on. While the fussy furnace groaned to life, she hustled the kids into their pajamas and then into bed, adding microwaved heating pads at their feet, between the sheets, to help warm them up.
She was shivering herself when she jumped into her own bed and pulled the covers close to her chin. Tonight was a night she could use a heating pad at her feet. Or a big, warm body in her bed.
Dillon came to mind, and once there, he didn’t want to leave. Or, maybe she didn’t want him to leave. He was easy to think about. And easy to
look at. But then, the Sheenans were a good-looking family. Big, tough, ruggedly handsome ranchers and cowboys...
And bioengineers.
She’d had no idea he was a science guy. Interesting. As the mother of a science nerd, she knew those engineering minds worked a bit differently. They responded to logic and reason, not emotion. But she admired a good brain. Admired a mind that was always thinking and asking questions...
As well as paying her compliments.
She smiled against the covers, remembering Dillon’s compliments. That she was beautiful. Perfect.
Perfect.
She’d made a face when he’d said it because he’d been drinking. He didn’t mean the complements. But now, in bed, alone, the words rose up, little ghosts, and teased her.
Beautiful. Sexier then hell. No one he liked better.
She shouldn’t pay attention. He was buzzed. And a flirt. Dillon Sheenan was young. Just thirty years old, and like his brothers, he had a wild streak and a reputation for fighting, drinking, and taking risks.
He was also the most handsome of the Sheenans, and that was saying something as they were one good-looking family.
He was also the tallest. Easily six three. Maybe even six foot four. And full of cocky confidence and testosterone.
She smiled wistfully into her covers. She’d had fun tonight, at Grey’s, sitting next to him at the bar. She’d enjoyed the banter—even if it was all bullshit—and she’d loved the way he’d looked at her. As if she were his.
It was sexy. He was sexy.
But young. Really young. Barely thirty. And men took longer to mature than women so he was practically a boy.
With a man’s big hard body.
Paige grabbed a pillow and pressed it to her chest, arms wrapping around the cool softness trying to soothe her heated thoughts and skin. If he could turn her on just by looking at her, imagine how it’d feel if he touched her.
If he could make her feel like the only one in a crowded bar, how would it be if they were truly alone?
She shivered, wanting things she hadn’t wanted in a long time...
He’d done something to her tonight. Sitting next to him, being close to him, had stirred something inside of her, reminding her of someone she’d once been. Young, fun, pretty. Carefree.
It’d been a long time since she’d felt pretty, and feminine. She wasn’t sure if it was losing Lewis, or becoming a mom, but something inside her had changed, settling, maturing. Maybe maturing too much.
Yes, life was serious business, but did that mean she couldn’t still have fun? Enjoy life a little?
Was it possible to be beautiful and sexy and still be a good mom?
She didn’t know, but she suddenly felt guilty for wondering. She was lucky to have such great kids. She shouldn’t be greedy. She shouldn’t want too much. She loved her kids, loved her life, she shouldn’t want more.
Dillon was the last to leave Grey’s. He’d stopped drinking a half hour before closing but he wasn’t yet ready to walk to the Graff. He watched Reese clean up behind the bar. Listened to him shoo the last few customers out. Reese let him stay while he closed. Reese had always let him stay while he closed, knowing that Dillon liked to pound some water and sober up before he drove back to the Sheenan Ranch. Dillon had a thing about being careful. He’d always been more cautious than Cormac, and more responsible than Trey.
Dillon didn’t sleep with married women and he didn’t hook up with single moms, either because he knew those women already had it hard, and they didn’t need an asshole making it harder.
He liked the good-time girls, the ones who enjoyed teasing, flirting, getting laid. He understood those women and he could satisfy. Dillon was a virgin until his senior year of high school and his first time was a disappointment—to her, and him. He studied up before he tried again and had better control, but he could tell her orgasm, if she’d even had one, hadn’t been all that special. He went back to the books, read everything he could and even watched a couple adult films before trying a third time.
He got it right that time. She screamed his name as she came and then cried in his arms after, saying he was incredible and it was incredible and she thought she was falling in love.
In fact, she’d fallen in love.
Impossible, he thought. The sex had been good and he’d enjoyed the rush and release, but love? Ridiculous. She barely knew him.
It was in college he discovered how the brain released oxytocin during sex, which is why women often felt bonded to a man after, and he appreciated the bonding if the female was carrying his offspring, but seeing how he was scrupulous with birth control, he wasn’t interested in a permanent, monogamous relationship. He was young. He was a man. He wanted to sow his seed...so to speak.
In Austin he hadn’t worried about getting trapped into marriage. The women he knew were driven and ambitious, career women wanting to accomplish big things. But here in Marietta the women tended to be more family-oriented. They were ready to settle down, make babies. That was fine, provided they weren’t settling down with him.
Thus the rule, no single moms. No nice, church going women. No virgins. No daddy’s girls.
No trouble. No hassles. No thank you.
Reese hit the light switches in the back. Dillon stood up and pushed his stool in, under the counter, lining it up with the others then joined Reese at the front door.
“I can drop you off,” Reese said.
“I’m looking forward to the walk,” Dillon answered, buttoning up his leather barn coat. “It’s only a couple blocks.”
“It’s windy as hell.”
“Good. It’ll clear my head.”
Outside, Dillon jammed his hands into his coat pockets and hunching his shoulders against the icy blast of wind, crossed the street, heading north on 1st. The Graff was literally three blocks away but the cold clean air felt good in his lungs. He’d miss these cold clear nights when he returned to Texas. He’d miss the big mountains and the stars and that little bit of California sunshine named Paige Joffe.
He didn’t know why he was so sweet on her. She wasn’t his type. He’d never liked petite blondes before. In fact, she was everything he tried to avoid but that didn’t seem to matter when he looked at her. Or talked to her. Or sat next to her.
She just felt good. She just felt right. He didn’t even know how to explain it. It didn’t make sense to say she felt good or right because he’d never touched her, or kissed her. He shouldn’t imagine things or project onto her.
For all he knew, she might be the world’s worst kisser. She might be awful in bed. Ice. Like this freezing February night.
His boots crunched as he crossed Front Street. She could be the same...ice, snow, frost, frigid.
Or not.
She could be fire.
Or she could be ice.
And then he’d warm her up. He’d kiss her until she melted and glowed sweetly, brightly, craving him.
By the time Dillon reached the hotel’s front door, he was no longer cold. It was impossible to be cold when he burned just thinking about her.
Chapter 3
The day hadn’t started as planned.
Instead of having a relaxing Saturday morning, one where Paige could sit with her coffee and get caught up with the news and her magazines while the kids slept in, she was in the middle of a battle with a clogged toilet. And the toilet was winning.
Bad toilet.
Bad day.
On the plus side, the kids were still asleep, because once they woke they’d want breakfast and Addison and Tyler would argue over which cartoon to watch and the quiet morning would be gone. Far better to deal with the downstairs toilet now, before Tyler wanted to help, and Addison would want to get involved and there would be more fighting.
Placing the plunger Paige had just borrowed from her neighbor, Carol Bingley, in the middle of the bowl, she gave a firm downward thrust, creating a tight seal between the plunger and the bowl.
She gave another pu
sh, and was just about to push again when her cell phone rang.
It was sitting on the pedestal sink, too far to reach, so Paige ignored it. She needed to get the toilet working and the plunger back to Mrs. Bingley. Mrs. Bingley had made a point about the plunger being returned soon. Paige had assured her she’d bring it right back, and she would.
As soon as she got the toilet working.
And she’d do that, too. It wasn’t that big of a deal. It was just a toilet. Not death, or disease. At least she had plumbing. Something she was grateful for. Could you imagine having to deal without indoor plumbing? Imagine having to rely on an outhouse? Horrible.
So she counted her blessings. Thank you, God, for my house. Thank you, God, for clean water and sanitation. Thank you for my children, and the fact that they are healthy.
She gave the wooden dowel a vigorous push with each blessing.
Things could be so much worse. Compared to most, she was in good shape. She had kids, friends, a job, and a home. So what if the house had rotten floorboards, drafty windows, and a temperamental antiquated furnace that blasted hot air on warm days and no heat on frigid days?
At least there were floorboards and windows and a furnace.
At least she owned a home....even if dilapidated. Most people had no idea that her handsome 1893 Queen Anne on Bramble Lane was a disaster. Heck, she hadn’t even known the handsome house was a disaster when she plunked down her life savings for it.
She knew better now, but they were surviving.
The kids were healthy.
They were relatively happy.
It could be so much worse. They could be dealing with truly awful things. Death, hunger, famine.
Even bigger taxes.
A clogged toilet on a Saturday morning was nothing. Nothing.
The phone rang again, and Paige inched towards the sink, trying to see the number of her phone. It was Flo, from the diner.
Paige chewed her lip. Not good. Flo had worked at the diner forever and wouldn’t call for anything less than an emergency, especially on a Saturday morning before eight. She’d need to take the call.
Paige lifted the plunger, carefully setting it down even as the toilet made a strange keening sound.
