“Told him I did.”
“And he brought you out here anyway?” Cord asked in disbelief.
“Told him the school was this way. He didn’t know no better.”
“I think he probably did.” Cord raised a brow the way he imagined someone’s father might and waited for Joseph to wiggle and fidget.
“Fine. I told him I was homeschooled and stayed at a friend’s house last night, but I got homesick and wanted to see my mom.”
“So you lied.” Man, it wasn’t his job to teach the boy character, but he couldn’t condone lying. The kid didn’t have anyone else to teach him it was wrong.
“It got me what I wanted, didn’t it?” Joseph grinned unrepentantly.
Cord put his pitchfork down, tongs first, and leaned on the handle. “If I were cold, I could build a bonfire and take boards off this barn to feed it and warm myself up.” He looked at the boy, wondering if he’d be old enough to understand. “But eventually, I’d burn through all the boards. I’d be cold again, plus I wouldn’t have a barn.”
“Whatcha trying to say?”
“When you lie, you’re tearing down the character of your soul in the same way, just to get what you want in the moment. Eventually, you’ll be left with a void inside, nothing, where you should have character. A man with no character is a blight on the face of the earth.”
Joseph’s smile had faded, and he looked down at the ground. He dug in the floor a bit with his toe. Cord didn’t move. He had a few things he wanted to get done today, a dogsled he wanted to finish, but Joseph was more important than any work he had to do.
“I suppose not lying when you want to is like putting boards on your character.” Joseph didn’t quite meet his eyes when he lifted his head up and spoke.
At least the kid had understood his analogy. He didn’t know what his dad would have said if he’d still been alive, but Clay had been about the closest thing he’d had to a dad, and Clay would have said he’d done well if the kid understood. Because kids were a lot like horses. He couldn’t make them drink, but he could salt the oats.
“Yeah. That’s exactly right.”
Rosalin came into his mind, then. And he wondered, did he really want to be married to a woman who didn’t care if he kissed someone else? Had she been lying about not caring?
“This is the last day of school before Christmas vacation, right?” he asked Joseph.
“Yeah,” Joseph said from where he’d bent to pet Crackers.
“It’s a half-day.”
“Yep.”
“Don’t you watch a movie or something?”
“That’s right.”
“And you’d rather be here?”
“You were showing me how to smooth the runners down on your dogsled the last time.”
“Yeah, that was a few weeks ago. I’m doing something different now.”
Joseph’s face fell.
“But I think you can help with that, too.” He waited until Joseph’s head came up with a big smile. “But first. Bill needs hay. You want to give it to him?”
“I can? Yeah!” Joseph let his pack slide off his arm and rushed into the barn.
Cord would remind him about moving slow around the animals in a bit. After he quit grinning. And after he figured out whether it was wrong for him to let the kid skip school if all they were going to do was watch a movie anyway.
Chapter 7
ROSIE TURNED THE LIGHTS out in the library and walked on tired feet back to her apartment. Her phone buzzed just as she had a hand on the knob.
Forgot to tell you I told your kissing tutor to go in the back door and wait for you to close the library. You should get a real job.
Rosie laughed. A real job? This was the best job in the world. There wasn’t much left after she paid her bills, but she could read to her heart’s content.
Sure, she’d always kind of dreamed of sharing a ranch with Cord, but this was second best. Everyone should be so blessed.
She’d turned the knob, then froze, because the rest of Rosalin’s text registered.
There would be a man.
In her apartment.
He was there to teach her how to kiss her sister’s fiancé.
How did her life get to this point?
Her hand started to sweat, and it slipped off the doorknob.
Did she want to do this?
Could she?
Maybe if she hadn’t already kissed Cord, she wouldn’t know what she was missing and this wouldn’t be such a great temptation. But the idea of being able to kiss him one more time, really kiss him and be good at it...well, it was almost more temptation than she could resist.
Plus, she didn’t want him to figure out that she’d been lying to him. That might actually be the one thing that would be worse than never kissing him again.
She rubbed her hand down her pant leg and opened the door.
Not sure exactly what she had expected, she was nonetheless quite surprised to see a man lying on her bed.
Maybe she’d thought he’d be sitting at her table?
At least he still had his clothes on. Some of them, anyway.
His shirt was off. Bare feet sticking out of his jean cuffs. She thought maybe his pants were unzipped, too, but she couldn’t get her eyes down off the ceiling long enough to truly look. Not that she wanted to.
Really.
She didn’t, and she wasn’t just saying that to herself. She really didn’t want to look.
“Hey, hotcakes.” The voice gave her shivers in all the wrong ways. There was rustling on the bed, but she couldn’t look because she’d just discovered a crack in her ceiling which was actually in the shape of a dinosaur, and she found...
“Your sister said you needed some help.”
“Actually...” She cleared her throat because that word came out sounding strangled and two octaves too high. “Actually, I’ve...”
“You can look at me.”
No, she couldn’t. This was way too awkward, and now she was going to have to wash her sheets before she could go to bed tonight. Or maybe she could just sleep on the rug—once she got rid of him, of course.
Because kissing lessons in theory were a great idea. Maybe. But in reality? No. No way did she want to have anything kissing to do with this complete stranger who was half-naked, a little creepy, and completely sucking all the air out of her apartment and not in a good way.
How could she get him out?
Maybe she should try baby steps. Just get him off her bed, first.
“Would you like a cup of warm milk?”
The rustling stopped. “Huh?”
“I was thinking we could sit at the table and have a cup of warm milk.”
There were a few beats of silence. “I guess. Rosalin paid me for two hours. We can spend it at the table if that’s what you want.”
“I want. Table. Yes.”
It sounded like he was getting out of her bed, but Rosie had her back turned, reaching in the fridge for milk. Maybe she should have offered tea. Coffee? She had no idea what proper protocol was for men who’d been hired by one’s sister to teach one to kiss and were now lying on one’s bed half-naked. At least she hoped he was still half-naked and not full-naked. Her heart beat like a semiautomatic machine gun.
Good grief, what was she going to do?
Shutting the microwave door, she pressed start, took a breath, and turned around, bracing herself.
He sat at her small table, one of her romance books in hand. He hadn’t put his shirt on, but at least her furniture hid most of his, hopefully still clothed, lower half.
“This book has eleven words in the title.” He twisted it in his hand, looking it over.
“Yeah, it’s not her best. I was thinking I could probably write something better.”
The man gave her an eyeball under a lifted brow. “If your sister is hiring me to teach you how to kiss, maybe romance isn’t your thing.”
And the shirtless man had a point. “Did she really hire you for
two hours?”
“Guess she figured you were a slow learner.” The guy grinned and reached in his pocket. Great. His pants were still on apparently. “That’s why I brought these.”
Oh, boy. She didn’t want to look. Her eyes squeezed shut tightly, as though to look was to allow her brain to seep out. She forced them open.
He held out a hand full of rolls of lip balm.
Relief allowed her to open her eyes the rest of the way. “Nothing like being prepared.”
“I brought some other things, too.”
Rosie held her hand up. “I don’t need to see anything else. Thanks.” She took a breath. “My name’s Rosie, by the way.”
“Yeah, I know. I’m Liam.” He held his hand out. Rosie looked at it for a moment before she shook herself and took it. She could shake his hand, right? And he wasn’t going to yank her across the table.
“It’s nice to meet you, Liam.”
“So, you’re the kind of girl who wants to talk before kissing?”
“Um, I’m actually the kind of girl who doesn’t want to kiss at all.”
Liam set the book down on the table and tapped it with his hand. “Yeah. Definitely something else other than romance. Horror, maybe.”
“There’s more to romance than kissing.”
“Really?” He looked truly shocked.
“Of course. That’s just a small part of what’s really good about romance books.” She supposed she should be totally honest. “Of course, a good kissing scene can really make a book.”
“Well, maybe you ought to hold off on the writing until you learn how to kiss. After I’m done with you, you should be able to write a good kissing scene.”
More bad chills.
The microwave dinged. Rosie scrambled to grab the milk.
She opened the microwave door, speaking with her back to him. “I was serious, actually, about not wanting any kissing lessons. We talked about it, yes, Rosalin and me, but upon further reflection,” and upon having an actual man at her table, one that wasn’t Cord and that she had no desire to kiss, “I’ve decided that I’d prefer to not take lessons.”
She turned with his milk in hand to see him fingering her book. “I have better books in the library out front. I can get you one if you’d like.”
“Nah. Anyone who can put that many words in a title and still sell a few copies must have some kind of voodoo.”
“Or maybe she needs to practice being concise.”
“You use all these big words. You probably should be a writer.”
“Well, I’ve got the vocabulary, and you’ve got the kissing expertise, and we have two hours. We can write a book.”
Rosie didn’t exactly think they could write a book in two hours, but it was better than having him sit there wondering when she was going to cave and let him teach her how to kiss.
“Okay.” He looked at the book, his brows wrinkled. “Except, I really am curious. Why did your sister think it was such an emergency to hire me?”
Rosie pulled a chair out and sat down. She wasn’t going to take lessons from him, but it was probably safe to tell him about her messed-up, convoluted life. She wasn’t expecting, exactly, that he’d have any great advice for her, but what would it hurt?
“Maybe you noticed that Rosalin and I look exactly alike?”
“You move differently.”
Perceptive.
“Yeah. But I can be her.”
“Okay.” He took a sip of his milk. “Got any coffee to put in this?”
She stood, getting her can of instant coffee and setting it on the table. “So, she’s asked me to be her on a date with her fiancé.” She ran a finger over the lid of the coffee. “She said when he kissed me, he’d know I wasn’t her, and so she decided that I needed lessons.”
“I would think he’d know when he looked at you.”
“We’ve been practicing being each other since we were old enough to think about it.” But never when the stakes were this high. She hated deceiving her best friend, but loyalty to her sister just barely edged out loyalty to him.
“I see.” He rubbed his chin.
She pushed the coffee over and sat back down. “I guess I should tell you the whole story. I think I’m in love with him. My sister doesn’t know.”
The guy gave her an odd look, like he wasn’t sure why she was telling him all that. But then he kind of shrugged his shoulders and said, “That changes things.”
Rosie nodded. “I guess I thought I wanted to know how to kiss him. But I don’t think I really do. I mean, I guess I don’t want to kiss my sister’s fiancé, although I really do, but I don’t, and I don’t want it to be a contrived, practiced thing that has a lot of skill but no emotion.” She put her head on her hand. “I’m not making any sense, am I?”
Liam huffed a laugh. “No, you’re not. And you’re talking to a man. Straight-line thinker. You like him. Does he like you?”
“As a friend.”
“Ouch. Friend zone.”
“Yeah.”
“So he’s in love with your sister?”
“Yeah.” She bit her lip. “I mean, he’s going to marry her. He must be.”
Liam’s face scrunched. “I don’t think she loves him.”
“Maybe not.”
A knock at the door interrupted their conversation. “Rosie, you decent?”
Rosie’s eyes got wide. Her heart threw down the gun and started to run. “That’s Cord,” she hissed, her gaze on Liam’s. “Oh, no! Where’s your shirt? Can we hide you somewhere?” Her head swiveled right and left. “The bathtub?”
“Whoa,” Liam said, never moving from his chair. “Why can’t he see me?”
“Because—” She stopped short. Why not?
“Yeah.” Liam smiled. “Go ahead and tell him to come in.”
Rosie narrowed her eyes at Liam. It felt a little surreal to have a half-naked man at her table. In fact, the whole evening since she’d walked into her apartment felt surreal, like she was living someone else’s life.
“Come on in, Cord. Door’s open,” she called.
Cord walked in. Broad shoulders in a heavy brown coat filling the doorway. Pulling his hat off his head and stomping the snow off his boots onto her rug.
He stopped mid-stomp when his eyes landed on Liam.
Rosie swallowed.
His eyes cut to her.
“Am I...interrupting something?”
Rosie’s mouth went up and down.
Liam spoke. “Not at all. I’ve been hired to give our Rosie here some kissing lessons. You’re just in time to be a third eye and make sure we’re doing it right.”
Rosie’s eyes cut back to Liam. A third eye? The urge to snort-laugh was almost more than she could resist.
“Would you like some warm milk?” she asked instead.
Cord’s brows fluttered up. “Warm milk?” His eyes flicked to Liam’s cup. “Is that what he’s having?”
“Yes. He also put some instant coffee in his, I believe.”
“Isn’t that supposed to be the other way around?” Cord said. Then he shook his head. “Kissing lessons? What’s up with that, Rosie?” His eyes searched her face, and his voice lowered. “I don’t think you need...kissing lessons.”
Liam’s brows twitched, but before he could say anything, there was another knock at her door.
Rosie couldn’t pull her eyes away from Cord. He seemed to be saying that the kiss they’d shared was just fine. But the kissing lessons weren’t really about her, Rosie. They were more about her being a convincing Rosalin. Rosalin was the one who really knew how to kiss. It was about Cord not finding out that Rosalin was Rosie on their date.
Things were getting a little complicated.
“Who is it?” Rose called.
“Max.” The door opened, and the dark Texan’s eyes swept the room. “Looks kind of crowded in here.”
This was getting ridiculous. Up until this point in her life, the only man that might have been in her apartment was C
ord.
No doubt the situation called for something a little stronger than milk. She turned, opened the fridge, and pulled out a carton of orange juice.
“Who are you?” Max asked.
Rosie could only assume he was talking to Liam, since he already knew Cord.
“Obviously I’m someone the lady wants here.”
Rosie thought that was stretching the truth to the breaking point, but possibly pretending to be her sister made her guilty of the same infraction and pot and kettle and all that.
“In or out, but shut the door.” Cord spoke with authority. He looked over at Liam. “Put your shirt on. It’s rude to sit at the lady’s table undressed.”
“Maybe she wants me that way.” Liam smirked, but he reached back and grabbed his shirt, pulling it over his head.
“Seems like a bit of a circus in here.” Cord eyed the carton of orange juice in her hand. “I had something I wanted to talk to you about, but maybe we can step out?”
It was phrased as a question, but she’d only seen Cord like this a time or two in their lives, and that was saying something, since they’d spent so much time together over the years. She’d never actually seen him lose his temper—he was easygoing almost to a fault—but he definitely seemed angry.
She wasn’t sure why. Even if he were being protective of her, like a friend, possibly, it wasn’t like there was any reason to be upset. She hadn’t invited any of the men who were in her apartment.
Setting the carton on the table, she grabbed a jacket and walked out the opposite door into the darkened library. The heat automatically went down fifteen minutes before closing time, and it would be chilly at this hour.
Cord followed, closing the door with a click behind him.
The area wasn’t that large, but especially in the back where they stood, it was filled with bookshelves. She walked up the row and came out to where she had a few desks, several donated recliners, and her own, slightly larger desk. The area was lit by a night-light, which gave enough light to keep from tripping but not enough to show any color other than shades of gray along with black and white.
She ignored the stack of books on her desk—she’d been making her way through a cowboy series someone had donated. It contained one of the books that Liam had been talking about. Maybe she could write a better story than that author. At the very least, she could come up with better titles.
The Cowboy's Marriage Mistake Page 5
