But this was real life. And she was supposed to be good at handling real life. So all she did was pull out the registration form Murphy had brought her for the baseball league and start filling it out.
Considering the caseworker was due to show up in a matter of days, she didn’t dare let herself think that he wouldn’t be allowed to stay with her long enough for the first pitch to even be thrown.
Chapter Thirteen
Erik made it until May.
It was the hardest thing he’d ever done in his life, but he’d managed not to contact Isabella once since that day he’d left her with a frozen bag of vegetables pressed against her cheek.
Not that he hadn’t thought about her. Dreamed about her. Wished with every fiber of his being that he’d see her driving her little sedan up his newly graded road to tell him that she’d chosen him. Chosen them.
But he didn’t contact her.
So it felt like a blow to his gut when he stopped in at Shop-World late one Friday night to grab some fishing gear for Murphy to use the next day and he spotted her steering a loaded grocery cart across the parking lot. He’d gotten so used to avoiding anyplace where he might run into her that all he could do was stand on his brakes and hold his breath while he watched her load the bags into her trunk before driving away.
He wanted to follow her.
But he forced himself to park and go into the too-bright, too-large store. He found what he needed—a relatively inexpensive rod and reel and a tackle box that he filled with the basics. He had plenty of his own gear that he could have given to Murphy, but the kid would more easily accept something new. He was still touchy about using things of Erik’s, like a hat or a baseball glove. As if doing so meant a slight against the dad he’d lost.
He stowed his purchases in the back of the truck and drove through the quiet streets of Weaver.
He could just drive past her house.
It was late. Dark outside. It wasn’t as if he would stop. Just...check that everything looked okay. That her car was back home, safe and sound, in the narrow driveway.
That was what he told himself, anyway.
And maybe he would have had the strength to do just that if she hadn’t been sitting near the front picture window and looked out, seemingly straight at him, while he trolled past.
But she did. And before he knew what he was doing, he was out of the truck and striding up her walk.
She didn’t move, though, and he realized that probably all she could see on her side of the brightly illuminated window was her own reflection and not him at all.
He’d reached the porch, though. And turning away—even though it would have been smart—wasn’t something he seemed able to do. So he rapped his knuckles softly on the door. Barely three seconds passed before she yanked it open.
Like the first time he’d stopped at her house to deliver his mom’s leftovers, Isabella was barefoot. She was wearing an oversize shirt with her hair pulled up in an untidy mess atop her head. Her eyes widened with just as much surprise now as they had then. Only, this time there was no alarm in them.
Just a brown-black pool of warmth that drew him in as surely as a moth to a light.
“Erik.” She clutched a pair of small silver scissors against her chest. “Why... What—” She shook her head a little. “Is everything okay?”
Except for the fact that he was losing his mind? “Dandy.”
Her eyebrows rose. “What are you doing in town this late at night?”
The scent of her filled his head. If this was what it was like after a matter of weeks, what kind of raving lunatic was he going to be after a few years? The rest of his whole damn life? “Had supper at Colbys with Case.” He didn’t mention going to Shop-World afterward. “Then we had a few beers and played a few games of pool.”
She looked hauntingly uncertain. “I can fix you some coffee if you’re in need?”
His need wasn’t for caffeine. “Murphy in bed?”
Her lashes suddenly dropped. She moistened her lips and looked over her shoulder. He could see down the hallway to the two bedrooms. Both doors were open. She looked back and seemed surprised to find the scissors still in her hand. She set them aside on the small table next to the door. But then her empty hand fluttered to the top of her shirt, just where the buttons ended and creamy, smooth skin began. “He’s actually spending the night with Zach and Connor. J.D.’s driving him back here around five so he’ll be here when you come to get him in the morning.”
Every curse he knew circled inside his head. Murphy being here would have been a helluva safety net. Knowing he was miles and miles away had Erik jumping off a cliff into dark waters. “Be prepared for him to come back with a new arsenal of tricks,” he managed to warn. “The twins are notoriously mischievous.”
She eyed him for a moment. “Did you already know that he was over there?”
“Good grapevine in Weaver, but not that good.”
“Not that accurate, either,” she said a little wryly.
“Ah. The mugging-slash-cabinet incident. I heard about that.” He tilted his head. She had dark shadows beneath her eyes, but it wasn’t because of the black eye. Not after all this time. Maybe she was having the same sleepless nights he’d been having. “Figured it was better than the truth.”
“That’s what I thought, too.” She chewed her lip for a moment, then forced a cheerful smile that failed miserably. “I’ve registered Murphy for baseball,” she practically chirped. “We turned in the paperwork just this afternoon.”
“Congratulations. It’ll be good for him.”
“Zach and Connor are going to be playing, too.”
“Well.” He thought about that for a moment. “Maybe the league will survive the three of them all at once. It survived Case and me when we were young.”
For the blink of an eye, her dimple showed as she smiled. He closed his hand over the doorjamb above their heads to keep from reaching for her. “Heard from your caseworker? Anything more about Murphy’s—” he didn’t really want to call that other woman his mother, even though she technically was “—about Kim?”
She shook her head. “I’ve called Monica a few times. They can’t locate her at all.” Her lips twisted. Considering Erik’s opinion of the woman, he could only imagine what Isabella’s was. “That doesn’t settle anything for me, though, as Murphy’s guardian. Monica will be here on Monday to meet with us, and when she learns about everything that’s happened here—” She broke off and shook her head.
Murphy had mentioned the caseworker’s impending visit a time or two. Enough that Erik knew the boy was worried. He told her the same thing he’d told Murphy. “Maybe it won’t be as bad as you think.”
She pressed her lips together and rocked a little on her bare toes. “Or it could be worse. We’re supposed to meet at Murph’s counselor’s office. Just one big, happy family. Six p.m. sharp.”
“Nervous?”
She nodded. “You might say that.”
“It’s going to turn out all right.”
“Well, I appreciate you saying that. But none of us knows anything for certain, do we?”
“Some things a person does know. For certain.”
Her gaze skidded over his. “You’re not talking about Murphy anymore,” she said after a moment.
He shook his head once.
She worried the corner of her lip between her teeth. Stared back at him with wide eyes. “I’ve missed you.” The words seemed to burst out of her, surprising her as much as they surprised him.
His hungry gaze roved over her, taking in every detail. Including the glittering ring still on her finger. “I’d better go.” He gave her a nod miles on the side of polite.
She hesitated. “Right. It’s late. Murphy told me how busy things are out there.” She folded her arms across her chest. “C-calving and starting to build your addition and all.”
The calving was pretty well done and the addition would be a few months in the making at the very least. “He�
�s doing okay, you know,” he said abruptly. “I probably should have let you know that before now. Still has an attitude most of the time, but what boy his age doesn’t?” His mother had reminded him a few times of that. “He’s still a hard worker and he learns fast. He’s turned out to be a lot of help to me.” Truth was, Erik was getting used to Murph’s company around the place. Not just because of what he meant to Isabella, and definitely not because of that stained-glass window, which was finally in the church’s hands and off his. But because Murphy was a hard worker. And he did learn fast. And he knew more baseball stats than any boy his age ought to. He had Erik resorting to hunting up arcane facts late at night on the internet just so he’d be prepared every Saturday.
“That’s good.” She moistened her lips. “Thanks for telling me. He’s better around here, too. Has even taken to mowing the lawn on Monday evenings. I nearly fell over the first time he did it.”
“I’ll bet.” His fingers dug into the jamb for a moment. Then he gave it a quick tap. “Well. G’night.”
She smiled quickly, then stepped back and started to close the door. “Good night, Erik.”
He’d made it all the way to the curb when he heard a sound behind him.
He turned to see her jogging across the small square of neatly trimmed grass. She stopped in her tracks when he did. “Are you sure you don’t want to come in for coffee?”
With her pale, pale hair and the white shirt, she was like a ghostly wisp against the dark yard. But he knew if he touched her she’d be no wisp. She’d be warmth. And supple flesh and soft lips that tasted like home. “Izzy, if I come in, it’s not going to be for coffee.”
She hesitated for a long, long moment. And when she spoke, her voice had gone so husky it rasped over his nerve endings. “Good thing. I ran out yesterday.” Then, leaving him standing there like a speechless bump on a log, she returned to the porch where she stopped. And waited.
And as she waited, she lifted one hand to her hair, holding it away from her face.
He wanted everything she had to give, and he knew that wasn’t going to happen in one night.
But for now...for now he could see that at some point during the time it had taken him to get to his truck, she’d removed her engagement ring.
Because the hand holding her hair away from her face was bare.
He strode back to the house, caught her around the waist and pulled her inside. He slammed the door shut. He barely had time to see the color ride high in her cheeks before he flattened her against the solid wood and covered her lips with his.
Her hands raced up his chest, sinking into his hair as her mouth opened under his. Her foot slid nimbly around the back of his calf. Yoga, he thought faintly, and wondered just how flexible she might be. Then, when her foot slid farther and he felt her leg twining around his thigh, his brain just plain shut off.
He grasped her narrow waist and lifted her off the ground. His hips pressed hard against hers and she gasped, arching right back against him, her other leg sliding around him until he felt surrounded by her. Holding her against him, he turned blindly and thanked his lucky stars that there was nothing complicated about the floor plan of the house. It was a straight shot down the short hall and only one turn into her bedroom.
The bed was three steps in, and he lowered her down onto the center of it.
Her halo of white-blond hair spread out around her head after she tossed aside the clip that had been holding it. Erik absorbed the sight as he knelt on the bed beside her.
Her eyes gleamed, as dark and mysterious as a midnight lake. They locked on his face while he reached for the buttons of her shirt and slowly undid them, carefully folding away the fabric to reveal the lush curves beneath. Even as he looked, her nipples, easily visible through the sheer white bra cradling her breasts, drew up rosy and tight. He could also see her pulse, beating hard in her throat, and he wasn’t sure which was a more enticing sight.
But then she lifted her hands and undid the clasp on her bra. Suddenly, not even that flimsy fabric guarded her flesh from him. She let the cups fall to the sides and slowly reached for his hand, drawing it to her. “Touch me,” she begged, her voice raw. “I’ve been dreaming about you touching me for too long.”
The words undid him.
He closed his hands over her breasts. Felt her nipples stabbing his palms as he settled next to her, kissing her again. From her temple. To her lips. From the heat radiating from the base of her throat where her pulse beat furiously beneath the quick glide of his tongue. To the valley between her breasts and the velvety plane of her taut belly. He kissed her. Again and again, until he was two cells shy of desperate and she was trembling wildly.
But then her thigh slid over his, her strong leg pulling him closer, proving that her trembling wasn’t the same thing at all as weakness. Soon he was on top of her, rolling aside only long enough to get the rest of their clothes out of the way.
Then he was sinking inside her and she was arching against him, arms and legs wrapping, holding him close as she shuddered wildly and cried out his name.
His name.
And with his pulse thundering inside his head, Erik finally let himself go and lost himself in the woman he loved.
* * *
He stayed long into the night. As long as he dared. J.D. was never late for anything, so if Isabella expected her to have Murph home at five in the morning, that was when he’d be there.
And Erik knew he’d better not be.
He could fight Murphy’s emotional manipulation—unintentional or otherwise—but he couldn’t fight Isabella’s protectiveness, as well. He already felt he was holding the short end of that particular stick, even though in his saner moments he knew that things had moved too fast for all of them. Isabella’s and Murphy’s lives had been on a roller coaster for the past year. Adding Erik to the ride had been another loop they weren’t prepared for.
But still, he lingered, lying beside her in her dimly lit bedroom, their fingers lazily lacing and unlacing, legs tangled. They hadn’t slept. They’d made love again after that first fury had been spent. Slower. Longer. No less intense, but the way he’d always intended. And again she’d cried his name. And then she’d just lain in his arms and cried, holding him as if she never wanted to let go.
“I need to get out of here,” he finally said. He toyed with the long strands of her silky hair.
“I know.” She was lying on her back, her eyes staring up at him. “I wish—” She broke off. Sighed.
“I know,” he said, and her lips curved in an achingly sad smile. “I’m taking him out fishing with me,” he said, hoping the news would cheer her up. “I told him last week I would.”
“He didn’t tell me.”
“Didn’t figure he would.” He flipped the lock of hair between his fingers and tickled her nose with it. “Your hair is naturally this color, isn’t it?”
She nodded. “Hard to believe, but it’s actually darker now than it was when I was a child. There was a boy in one of the foster families I was with who called me ghost-girl.”
“He probably had a crush on you.”
She made a face. “He was seven. I was five.”
“How many different families were you with?”
She lazily slid the sole of her smooth, cool foot along his hairy calf. “Nine. None of them were awful. They just weren’t...mine.” She turned toward him. Her breasts nestled against his chest. “The best family was Nina and Howard. She’s the one who took me to tap-dancing lessons. And she taught me how to sew.” Her fingertips crept along his hip.
“How’d you get into making costumes at Lucy’s dance place?” He was curious. But it was difficult not getting distracted by those fingertips. Or by the sweet, sweet push of her breasts against his chest.
“In addition to the pole-dancing thing—” her voice turned sly and she somehow managed to shimmy even closer, until he felt her breath against his collarbone “—which only lasted a few months anyway, I worked in a dry-cle
aning store. It didn’t pay anywhere near as well, but it lasted a whole lot longer. I started taking community-college classes at night and I worked at the cleaner’s during the day. I did a lot of repairs and tailoring and such.”
He was listening, but it was becoming increasingly...hard.
Her fingertips drifted from his hip to the small of his back, then up again, inching forward, grazing his belly, then back, driving him more than a little crazy.
“One of the customers was a major patron of NEBT,” she went on, either blithely unaware of what she was doing to him or pretending she was.
Either way, he hoped to hell she never stopped.
This sort of crazy was okay with him.
“When I managed to save a formal gown she’d thought was ruined, she started hiring me to make a few custom things for her. Eventually, she introduced me to some people at the ballet, and by the time I was twenty-one, I was working in the costume department there. Lowest man on the totem pole, but I didn’t care. And eventually, I made it all the way up to wardrobe supervisor.” She suddenly shifted, sliding her thigh over his and pushing at his shoulders until he was the one flat on his back.
She knew exactly what she was doing. And as naturally as if they’d spent a lifetime together, she wrapped her fingers around him and guided him home, letting out a shuddering breath as she settled over him and began to rock. He wanted to tell her that he admired what she’d accomplished, what she’d done in her life. But then she was throwing her head back, her fingers clenching his, and the tremors inside her set off his own.
By the time either one of them could move again, it was only a few minutes before five o’clock. And feeling about as sneaky as he’d thought he was being with Sally Jane Murphy in the tenth grade, he left the house and drove away, hoping that he wouldn’t be seen by anyone, especially J.D. Fortunately, he made it out of the neighborhood with no surprises, and even though Ruby’s wasn’t open that early on Saturdays, the lights were on when he drove by and he pulled in, rapping his knuckles on the back door until Tabby let him in. A half hour later, with his second cup of coffee in his hand and his nerves considerably soothed by the first one, he drove back to Isabella’s house to pick up Murphy as if he’d never been there at all.
A Weaver Vow Page 17
