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Softly.
My brow arched. “Oh, I like food, Ms. Dae. I just have particular tastes.”
“Mmmmm,” she hummed. “I look forward to getting to know what those are.”
She was asking for it.
Or maybe I was.
This enchanting girl who had me mesmerized.
That connection throbbed between us.
A livewire that flamed.
Luring.
Tempting.
Taunting.
I had to stop myself from reaching under the table and squeezing her knee, from letting it glide up the inside of her thigh so I could watch her squirm and shake and come undone.
“I love these eggs the most.” Evelyn’s wholesome voice smacked me out of those dangerous thoughts.
“That’s good, Evie-Love,” Paisley said so easily, though it was still riddled with care. “Because it’s about the only thing I know how to make. That and spaghetti. Don’t be expecting any gourmet meals around here, and if Mr. Stuffy Pants over here has a problem with that, he’s going to have to hire us a chef.”
My head whipped her way.
Mr. Stuffy Pants?
A giggle slipped from between those plump, pink lips. “Are you denying it?”
“It’s Mr. Dressy Pants,” Evelyn corrected around a forkful of eggs. “He’s got the fancies on every day because he has important work to do.”
“I think he just doesn’t know he lives on a ranch and not in the city.” Paisley canted her head to the side, taking a sip of her coffee.
Teasing.
Playful.
Lighting up a dark spot inside of me.
“Eat your food, Ms. Dae,” I grumbled, fighting a grin.
She angled my direction, feigning a whisper, “I stand corrected. It’s Mr. Bossy Pants.”
Evelyn giggled like it was the funniest thing in the world.
That time there was no stopping myself, and my hand was under the table, gripping the woman by the top of the thigh.
Heat flash-fired.
A blaze across our flesh.
Paisley inhaled a shallow breath, and I leaned her way, so close to her ear that only she could hear. “I’ll show you bossy, Ms. Dae.”
She managed to grin around the flush that rushed up her neck. “I sure hope so.”
TWENTY-EIGHT
PAISLEY
Living here was like living in a dream. The peace of the ranch. The beauty of the land.
Like walking through quicksand.
Slipping slow before you’d realized you’d begun to get sucked under.
Like floating in shallow, cool waters, drifting before you’d realized you’d gone too far. You were in the deep end, and you’d forgotten how to swim.
But you never realized any of it because the sun was still shining on your face. Rays streaking through the leaves of the lush trees just like it was as Evelyn and I meandered back down along the river, Mazzy slowly plogging along with the little girl on her back while I held onto the lead rope.
We’d gone far today, a few miles to the northeast, exploring this gorgeous place, discovering some of its secrets and history.
I’d been here for two days.
Caleb and I had slipped into a strange sort of comfort—tiptoeing around each other, always aware, unimmune to the attraction that threatened to burn down the house every time we got in the same room.
Last night, I didn’t sneak into his room again, even though I’d lain awake desperate to go to him, that gravity that pulled between us so tempting.
The call.
The lure.
I didn’t even know why I was trying to resist it.
But I’d managed it somehow, trying to go back to the terse banter he and I had shared at the beginning because being enemies was probably a whole lot safer than what I was feeling right then.
The way the ground shook as Evelyn and I came out from beneath the trees and rounded the front of the house just as his shiny Range Rover pulled into the detached garage off to the left of the house.
Quicksand.
Nothing solid beneath my feet.
He appeared at the tail of his car, so rough beneath the polished stone, gorgeous and hard and powerful.
The garage door dropped closed behind him, and he began to stride our way, carrying his laptop case and a stack of mail, the dark blond locks of his hair stirred by the breeze, the ends kissing the sharp angle of his jaw.
My knees wobbled just a bit, nearly gave when those icy eyes tracked over us, clearly searching to ensure Evelyn was safe as we neared each other, the man who thought he couldn’t care so obviously caring.
But I still had no idea how to break through that. How to get him to understand what he was coming to mean to Evelyn. I doubted he had a clue. Doubted the calluses covering his heart allowed the truth to bleed through.
I doubted he understood it when she grinned so wide when he came closer, the excitement when her little voice hit the air when she shouted, “Hi, Uncle Caleb!”
She’d taken to calling him that. Like once she’d confessed it to me, said it aloud, it’d become a permanent part of her.
