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He’d taken a hot shower after finishing stacking the firewood and laying a fire for the next morning. And he was physically tired but he couldn’t clear his mind long enough to let him relax.
McKenna and TJ were here, under his roof.
It was incredible, so incredible he didn’t know how to process it. This morning he’d woken up, sick that he’d lost McKenna, and desperate to make sure he didn’t lose TJ, too.
It’d been an intense afternoon and everything that could have gone wrong…didn’t.
By some miracle, McKenna and his son were here, with him. Not with Lawrence. By some miracle he had been given a chance…
It was time he redeemed himself.
And he would.
God…fate…whatever you called it… had given him this opportunity, and this time Trey wouldn’t blow it.
He loved his family. He needed his family. And he was prepared to do whatever it took to prove that he was here for them, too.
*
Even though Trey had fallen asleep late, he was up early to turn up the heat and light the fire. He was lucky that there were clothes he could wear—jeans and t-shirts and flannel shirts, boots and a pair of running shoes, left by his brothers.
There was nothing for TJ to wear in any of the cabin closets but McKenna could maybe get away with a pair of sweat pants and a flannel shirt and the running shoes.
He left the clothes folded outside their bedroom door before grabbing his keys and driving into town to pick up coffee, eggs, bread, milk, butter, bacon and juice from the twenty-four hour convenience store attached to the gas station. He was just about to walk out when he spotted a couple bright red sweatshirts with the slogan Stay and Play at Cherry Lake folded up on a shelf with other souvenir items. The smallest size they had was a Youth Medium but Trey grabbed it, thinking it would at least give TJ something warm to wear.
Back at the cabin, he stoked the fire, added another log, and then made coffee in the old coffee machine he found in one of the kitchen cupboards.
He was busy frying bacon and whisking eggs when the bedroom door opened and McKenna appeared, still wearing the red flannel shirt from Trey’s truck.
And from the looks of it, only wearing the red flannel shirt.
“Sleep okay?” Trey asked, whisking the eggs more vigorously, forcing himself to look away. She was almost too beautiful, her long hair loose and spilling over her shoulders, the soft flannel fabric outlining the swell of her breasts and the shirt hem reaching only to mid thigh, leaving her long shapely legs gloriously bare.
“Better than you, I think,” she answered, smiling and crossing behind him to check the coffee. “Can I have a cup?”
“Please do.”
“Have you had any yet?”
“No. It has only just finished brewing.”
She opened the upper cabinet doors until she found two mugs and rinsed them out at the sink before filling them. The coffee was hot and she set a steaming cup at his elbow. “You don’t know how much I wanted this,” she said, circling her cup with her hands. “I don’t do well without my coffee in the morning.”
He smiled ruefully. “I remembered.”
She leaned against the counter, watching him flip the sizzling bacon. “I thought I would be freezing this morning but you’ve made it toasty warm in here.”
“Didn’t want you and TJ cold.”
“You’ve been up for a while, haven’t you?”
“Hard to sleep with so much on my mind.”
She sipped her coffee, and a long lock red hair fell forward. Carelessly she pushed it back, anchoring the curl behind an ear. “What’s on your mind?”
He placed another skillet on the stove, turned on the burner, and added butter to the pan. “I want you and TJ happy,” he said after a moment.
“TJ’s happy.”
He shot her a look over his shoulder. “I want you happy, too.”
She didn’t look at him. She stared at the pan, watching the butter melt. “We’re here for TJ. This is about him.”
“Not for me.”
“Trey, it’s important I be straight with you. I want to be fair to you. I’m not interested in romance, or a relationship with you. But I would like to be friends. Good friends. That way we can raise TJ amicably, without tension.”
“I agree.”
“But a romantic or sexual relationship would just complicate everything. You know it would. The sex thing always gets us in trouble.”
He’d learned a lot living for the past four years with little personal space and zero privacy. He’d learned to check his emotions by removing himself from a situation. He did that now, aware that this wasn’t about him, but her, and what she needed. McKenna needed to feel safe. She needed space. She needed time. No problem.
He nodded as he poured the beaten eggs into the skillet with the melted butter. “You’re right,” he said. “The sex was a problem.”
Her jaw dropped ever so slightly. “You think so?”
“I do.” He put the ceramic bowl in the sink and rinsed it out before reaching for one of the green checked dishtowels to dry his hands. “The problem is that the physical side of our relationship was too good. Making love felt so natural that I think we expected the rest of our relationship to be that way.” He glanced at her. “Now, I don’t regret the sex. It was hot. Pretty damn amazing. You know how much I love your body, but maybe the touching and kissing got in the way.”
She blinked. “Wow. I’m….shocked. But in a good way.”
“That’s good.” He smiled at her. “It’s nice that we are on the same page.”
She pushed her hand through her hair, shoving it back from her face, and he told himself he hadn’t noticed the way her shirt cupped her breasts or lifted to reveal several inches of pale creamy skin high on her thigh.
They weren’t lovers anymore. They were friends. Platonic friends. Platonic friends who didn’t have fringe benefits. He’d make sure of that. And he’d be the best platonic friend she ever had. So good that she’d be the one to begging to get back into his bed.
He gestured to the pile of clothes still stacked outside her door. “I picked up a sweatshirt for TJ at the convenience store, and found some clothes that belong to one of my brothers that will get you covered and warm until we can go shopping after breakfast. Feel free to top off your coffee before you shower and dress. I’m sure you’ll feel far more comfortable and less naked once you’re out of that old shirt and dressed.”
She stared at him a moment, and then nodded. “Sounds like a plan.”
Chapter Eleven
‡
It was the twenty-first of December, the last Sunday before Christmas, and Cherry Lake sparkled beneath the sunlit blue sky, Main
Street picture book pretty with festive green boughs and red ribbons on the lights and carols playing from invisible speakers. The cafes and shops lining the street were perfectly festive, too, decorated with fragrant wreaths, frosted windows, and charming holiday displays.
But trying to find everything they needed in Cherry Lake took some creativity and visits to six different stores to purchase the necessary undergarments, outer garments, shoes and coats. In the past, Trey had dragged his feet on shopping trips, but his patience and good spirits this morning amazed McKenna. He carried all the bags, kept TJ entertained, and hummed along with the carols, reminding her that he had a gorgeous voice.
He was gorgeous, too, and she wasn’t the only one who’d noticed. Women in the shops stared appreciatively, while others passing them on Main Street, cast swift, furtive second and third glances.
McKenna had forgotten what it felt like to be out with a man that drew tons of female admiration. Lawrence had been pleasant looking, attractive in that wholesome kind of way, but Trey was in a whole other league. Trey was darkly beautiful, sinfully beautiful, and she understood why women looked.
Men weren’t that handsome in real life.
Men weren’t that tall and muscular. They didn’t have hair that thick and dark or eyes that brilliant a blue. Their cheekbones weren’t that high or their jaws that chiseled. They didn’t flash dimples when they laughed. Their laughter and voices didn’t rumble in their chests. They simply weren’t made so perfectly.
They weren’t.
But Trey was. And his brother Troy. However, Troy wasn’t Trey, and McKenna had only ever had eyes for Trey since seeing him at Marietta High, surrounded by a group of guys that looked like they were up to no good.
And they weren’t. Trey’s friends cut class, showed up drunk or stoned, and spent more time in the front office than in class.
McKenna shouldn’t have been intrigued. She shouldn’t have been attracted to someone so obviously bad.
But when Trey looked at her, his gaze would always soften, his expression gentling. It happened so quickly she didn’t know if he was even conscious that his expression changed, and he didn’t look at anyone else that way. She knew because she watched him. She watched him a lot, fascinated by the way he carried himself, and the way others whispered about him, saying he was dangerous, reckless, saying he didn’t care about anybody, saying he would probably die young.
