Chapter 4

Saturday 6.42am

Carter

I’m lying in Brooke’s bed when I hear the faint buzz of my cell ringing in my jeans on the floor.

I ignore it and let it go to message as I squint at the light coming in filtered through dense snow.

I’ve been awake for hours. Brooke’s fast asleep on my long dead arm.

And I don’t care. I don’t care that I still can’t leave. I don’t care that the pound of steak I got out has probably gone bad, or that it was probably Andy on the phone wondering why I haven’t checked in with him.

I don’t care about where I’m supposed to be or who I’m supposed to be right now.

All of which means I’m completely and royally fucked.

I should be thinking about an escape plan. A way to extricate myself from this without too much grief but instead I’m thinking about finding a way to make this work.

If I had any moral compass, I’d have run from her the second I knew I wanted her for more than the night.

I’m tired of running. Tired of hiding and most of all, I’m tired of pretending.

But for this to continue, I’d have to tell Brooke the truth about why I came to Rover’s Retreat. Which is not going to happen.

Instead of doing something even more stupid, I try to ease my arm out from under her neck.

When I get it free and have to shake the feeling back into it, she yawns, eyelids fluttering as her hand goes to her mouth. “What time is it?” she croaks.

I shrug my shoulders and sit on the side of the bed so I can pull my jeans back on. “Not sure. Around six. Hard to tell by the light.”

The empty pie dish is on the nightstand along with the wine bottle we managed to finish in bed late last night in between a marathon make-out session.

I shrug my clothes back on and tie my boots as quickly as I can. The room is back to freezing again, reminding me she needs the central heating fixed.

I stack the dishes in one hand and turn to find her smiling at me, head tilted as she pulls on her robe. “You never did say if you liked the pie.”

My eyebrow raises as her hands go to her hips. “I mean, since you ate most of it, it can’t have been awful.”

Her lips twitch as she mock glares at me. I respond by narrowing my eyes and lowering my voice. “It was the best fucking pie I’ve had in my life.”

Her eyes pop wider, hands sliding down from her hips like she knows I’m not just talking about the pie.

The tiniest amount of doubt flickers across her face before she reaches across and takes the dish out of my hands.

Her cheeks are flushed when she smiles. “Um, I need to make coffee.”

I follow in her footsteps, noting the severe temperature drop in the hallway before I detour to the bathroom while she takes the stairs.

I chuckle at the amount of water still on the tiled floor as I take a leak. I grab the towels, give the floor a quick wipe and toss them in the hamper, eyeing the shower, and wondering if she’d be interested in taking one with me before I go.

With a smirk on my lips, and dirty thoughts tracking through my head, I go back to the kitchen and find her lighting the fire in the old stove.

She looks over her shoulder, and I’m sure I catch a hint of mocking in her voice. “I guess you couldn’t fix the boiler then?”

Her eyebrows rise as she grabs the dishes we cooked with last night and dumps them in the empty sink. “Or was it a sneaky plan to keep me in either the kitchen or the bedroom?”

I growl at her as I slide my hands around her waist. “Nope. But now that you mention it…”

I push her hair to one side and start to kiss her neck until she’s moaning and leaning back against my chest.

“I can fix it. I just need something from my truck. But until the electricity is on there isn’t much point.”

Her head rests on my shoulder as we both stare out the window watching the snow fall heavier.

I run my hand a little higher up her body and ease her robe apart so I can put my hand inside.

When her nipple starts to pucker under my fingers, and she’s moaning again, I’m about to suggest we test out the table when I hear a dull ring.

Her body tenses and she jerks away from me, tugging her robe closed as she spins around. “That’s my cell. I should get it.”

I let her step around me, and hurry to where her purse is hanging off a chair. She pulls a beat-up old phone out of her bag and winces as she turns around to answer. “This isn’t a good time,” she says as she walks out of the kitchen.

I can hear a male voice, but she’s already in the hallway. I shouldn’t be getting involved, but my feet are inching closer to the door she pulled closed behind her.

I push the door slightly, hoping like hell she doesn’t come back just yet and angle my head so I can hear.

She’s talking quietly, but I can just make out what she’s saying. “—you can’t be serious? You went home and did what?”

Her voice cracks. “How could you have been so stupid?”

I glare at the door wishing I could speak to the dickhead on the phone, getting more riled up as I hear her sniffing and her voice wobbling.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out it's her douchebag ex on the phone. The next words out of her mouth confirm it. “I can’t sell. This is all I have left—what? I’m am not declaring bankruptcy. I’ll never be able to start a business—."

She curses loud enough to make me open the door a little wider. She’s not looking in my direction. She’s focused on the wall opposite when her eyes fill with angry tears as she hurls her phone.

When it smashes into the plaster, leaving a hole, her shoulders slump and she places her head in her hands.

I hover in the doorway, almost ready to involve myself in this little drama when my back pocket starts to buzz.

My eyes shoot to Brooke, but she’s not looking my way, so I back up until I’m in the kitchen.

I press the phone to my ear and keep my voice a shade lighter than I currently feel. “This can’t be my boss? It’s not even seven am.”

Andy rasps down the line. “Ha! To think I was worried. Smartass.”

I chuckle as I open the stove to load more wood inside. “Don’t need to worry about me. I’m fine.”

I take a seat at the table as Brooke comes in the room, dressed in sweats, hair back, her eyes red-rimmed as she doesn’t acknowledge me. “Not worried about you. I’m worried about Brooke. Anything happens to her; I have her father to answer to,” Andy says.

I keep my eyes on her as she rinses the dishes. Andy’s muttering in my ear, but I’m barely paying attention. “Yeah. Yeah, sure,” I say without listening.

Andy scoffs down the line. “Well, I’ll do my best. I’ll call again when the weather report comes. You just watch yourself, like I said, her Dad and I go way back—"

The line goes dead. Whatever it was he was talking about I completely missed.

I place the phone on the table and push back from the table as Brooke fills a large pan of water and places it on the stove.

She sniffs again and finally looks at me. “I need water to wash the dishes. The fire went out in the night…”

Her bottom lip wobbles as she looks at me. “But I guess I should have expected that. I mean it makes sense it went cold. Just like people go cold on you, right? They go and do shitty things when we think they won’t. They lie. They pretend to be someone they aren’t.”

I stare at her unblinking, not breathing as she damn near peers right into my soul.

I back away, heart starting to crash against my ribs at how close she is. “I need to…”

Go. Run. Leave. Like the coward I am.

I don’t give her the chance to speak or ask questions just head to the front door where I hung my coat.

I yank open the door and am nearly thrown on my stupid ass as a gust of snowy air smacks me in the face.

I shove hard and close the door with a curse just as Brooke appears. “What the hell, Carter? You can’t go outside in a blizzard.”

She sounds so pissed off, I raise my hands in surrender and try for a joke. “Yeah. Apparently, I can’t.”

Her frown only deepens as she steps closer. “What was so important?”

Important. Not letting you see who I am, that’s what’s so important. But I can’t say that. I can’t be honest. I can’t tell her I’m not worth the aggravation.

I can’t say I’m a fraud. That the reputation I have in Rover’s Retreat as a hardworking employee of Andy’s isn’t deserved.

I have absolutely nothing to say, so I stall by stripping my jacket off and hanging it back up.

I can’t think of a single thing that will explain my behavior, so I scramble to find something to fill the silence growing between us.

She adjusts her weight, folding her arms across her chest, her eyes slightly narrowed.

The words tumble recklessly from my mouth before I can filter them. “You want to tell me what’s going on?”

Her expression darkens as her shoulders stiffen. “What do you mean?”

I shift closer, still not sure what I’m doing or why. “The phone call.”

Moisture springs up in her eyes, but she blinks it away. “It was nothing. Anyway, what did you say? We should just enjoy the time we have?”

She sniffs. “I need to get breakfast, is there any way you could bring the generator up?”

I nod slowly. “I saw enough fuel to power a couple things for a week or so.”

Before I can say another word, she stalks off, way too quickly back in the direction of the kitchen.

The way my fists are curling at my sides, and the way I’m breathing too fast, tell me I want to go punch the shit out of the guy who treated her so badly.

But since I can’t leave and since she just agreed to this being a casual thing, I think she just let me off the damn hook.

I should be glad. I should be over the moon she doesn’t want the complication either.

So why the hell do I feel like I did something wrong?

And why do I feel like walking away from her would be the biggest mistake of my life?

***

Brooke

8.34am

I sniff again as I carefully lift the boiling water off the stovetop. My eyes are so bleary I have to blink a few times.

Damn him. Damn Nate for doing this. Just when I thought it was over and I could forget what he did, he calls to tell me there is another loan.

I shake my head, trying to shake away the tears before Carter comes back for his breakfast.

I don’t want him to see I’m upset so I swipe my eyes and concentrate on washing the dishes.

I scrub at the pans furiously, taking out all my frustration as the wind and snow howl outside the window.

I should have known it wasn’t over. Nate always had a habit of surprising me. And never in a good way.

Like the time he took me out for dinner at an expensive restaurant and forgot his wallet. Or the time he met my dad and tried to talk him into investing in a pyramid scheme.

I press my lips together and try not to mentally kick myself for even picking up the phone.

It’s my own fault. I haven’t spoken to him in a month. Of course, he was calling to relay more bad news.

Of course, there’s a loan he forgot about. There was always something he forgot. Something or someone.

I lean against the sink and try to think of something else so I don’t let the news overwhelm me. But it’s no use. My shoulders start to shake as I hear Carter come into the room. I can’t look at him as I try to pull myself together again.

I need to lock my emotions away so he can’t see. Just enjoy the time we have together like he said.

No man wants a weepy woman making him breakfast. And whatever this thing is with Carter, I’m pretty certain it’s not permanent enough to tell him why I’m crying.

I risk a look over my shoulder and can almost feel his eyes on my back as I work. “I’ll just get these done then I can fix you breakfast.”

I’m sure I hear him growl as he comes alongside me. I keep my head down and try not to look at him.

“I’ll make breakfast. Then I’ll get the generator.”

Without a word, he steps away from the counter and starts opening cupboards.

I’m too busy trying not to cry to see what he’s getting out for us to eat. I carry on in silence, trying to figure out how I can come up with the money before the end of the month.

Since crying isn’t going to help anything, I focus on what I’m doing and think about baking something.

By the time the dishes are all washed, and I’ve decided to make a tray of muffins, Carter has coffee brewing on the stove.

I turn, ready to set the table, only to find it already laid, complete with the homemade granola he must have found in the pantry, a jug of milk, and Aunt Jane’s preserved pears.

I’m so surprised he did it all without asking me once what I liked for breakfast, I just mutely sit and gawk at him.

Carter doesn’t say a word as he pours me a cup of coffee. His eyes find mine as he sits and fills his bowl with granola and adds a splash of milk.

His lips quirk upward. “What?”

I shake my head and reach for the Tupperware container of granola. “I’m just not used to…”

I’m not sure how to finish. What is it that I’m not used to? Having a competent man in my house?

A man who doesn’t ask me a dozen questions on how to boil water, just because he’s lazy and knows I’ll end up doing it for him?

I don’t speak aloud any of the thoughts I’m having. Instead, I take a sip of my coffee. It’s stronger than I usually make, but I need the extra caffeine, so I smile in his direction. “Good coffee.”

He chews his granola, forehead lined as he keeps his eyes on me. “You make this?”

I assume he means the granola so I nod and take a spoonful of my own. He nods appreciatively. “You should sell it. It’s better than the shit they sell for $7 a bowl in Stella’s.”

At the unexpected praise and comparison to Rover’s Retreat only coffee shop, my nose wrinkles. “I haven’t tried much at Stella’s.”

I don’t say that’s because I don’t have two cents to rub together, but he seems to understand.

There’s a hint of humor in his voice as he sips his coffee. “You aren’t missing out on anything.”

We carry on eating, not saying much, both pretending the phone call didn’t happen.

When he’s eaten two bowls of granola and drunk two cups of coffee he pushes back from the table. “I’ll go grab the generator so you have power in here. I might take a look at a couple of things while we have light.”

For the strangest reason, I rise and grab his arm, preventing him from leaving. He holds my gaze, eyes probing mine as my heart starts to beat too fast.

“Thank you for getting breakfast ready, and for making coffee,” I say quietly.

He shifts closer and pulls me into his arms so I’m hard up against his muscled chest.

I’m near crushed when he wraps his arms tight around me and whispers in my ear. “No problem.”

He pulls back so he can kiss me gently. My arms go around his waist instinctively as he kisses me deeper.

I think about his hands opening my robe earlier and wonder if he’s planning on trying anything again.

But he’s pulling back and heading out the door already. I sigh and start to clear the dishes away.

If I can’t distract myself with Carter’s incredible body, I may as well distract myself by baking for him.

***

Carter

I grab the flashlight and end up in the basement again, thinking about anything and everything I can to avoid thinking about what’s going on with Brooke.

I shouldn’t get involved. Getting involved means admitting this means something.

I grab everything I need, shove the flashlight under my arm, and start lugging the generator up the stairs.

It’s pretty lightweight as far as portable generators go, around a hundred pounds, but the stairs are narrow, and it’s dark so all my focus is on trying not to misstep so I can heft the awkward beast up.

By the time I make it to the hallway, sweat is pouring down my body.

I leave the generator and backtrack down the stairs to pick up the diesel containers and head back up.

I jam the flashlight in my pocket so I can carry everything back into the kitchen.

Multiple bowls are lined up on the countertop and table when I enter. Brooke has her back to me, hands covered in flour, apron tied around her waist, so I leave her to it.

I frown at the wall she damaged in the hallway and make a mental note to patch it when I fix the wall I originally came to fix.

The thought stops me in my tracks. How is that supposed to work out? I come back in a week or two, and just what? Fix her wall?

I mutter to myself as I strip off my shirt and pick up the generator again. I wrap my arms around it, not caring it’s soiling my t-shirt and get to work installing it in the kitchen.

It takes a couple goes to get it humming along nicely. Brooke’s still busy, so I head back down to the basement and sort through the tools, odds, and ends until I find a good enough selection to take a look at a few things.

The air is freezing on the first floor, so I check the chimney is clear in the living room and start the fire.

I build it until it’s blazing and ready to be left for a bit. I spend a couple hours fixing a few things I noticed, working until my stomach is growling and I stink to high heaven.

I leave the tools upstairs and hurry down again, mouth watering as I catch the scent of fresh baking.

Brooke is piling muffins on a plate when I enter. The generator makes it almost impossible to talk so I have to shout. “Fire’s lit in the living room.”

Her eyes widen before a crooked smile appears. She points to the coffee pot and picks up the plate of muffins.

She doesn’t say anything, but she looks happy enough, so I follow her out into the living room where the temperature is marginally better already.

Brooke sets aside the plate of muffins, grabs one and slumps into the worn sofa.

The other two chairs in the room don’t look strong enough to hold my weight, so I take a seat beside her.

She hands me a muffin and smiles lightly. “Thank you for getting the fire going. And for the generator.”

For a second I think she’s going to lean over and kiss me, but her nose wrinkles. “Do you need to take a shower?”

Her cheeks flush, and a hand slaps to her mouth. “Oh, I mean, I didn’t mean to be rude. It’s just you’re covered in dirt, and the water will take a while to heat.”

She looks so horrified that she might have insulted me that I chuckle and sniff my shirt. “Yeah, I stink. I’ll take one soon.”

Relief washes across her face as she bites into her muffin. “Sorry,” she says between mouthfuls. “That came out wrong. I’m grateful for all your help.”

I grin at her and take a bite of the muffin and demolish it in two mouthfuls. “Don’t mention it.”

I swipe my mouth and make a not so subtle hint for more muffins. Her eyes crinkle as she smiles and holds the plate out. “Good, huh?”

I jam another half into my mouth and nod. “Like I said before. You could sell your food in town. I’d pay for it.”

Her eyebrows rise, lip catching between her teeth. “Really? You aren’t just saying that?”

I shake my head and reach behind me for the coffee pot. I pour two cups and hand one to her before I answer. “Hasn’t anyone ever said that before?”

She takes a sip and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. Her brow knits. “No. Well, my dad, but you know, dads always say things like that.”

Ice trickles down my spine. “Yeah. I wouldn’t know about that.”

I slam my mouth shut before I can say anything else about myself. She swallows and wraps her hands around her mug of coffee. “Guess that topic is off-limits then, huh?”

I’m not sure if I’m more pissed off at myself or at her for figuring me out so quickly, but I nod a little too fast.

I drain the rest of my coffee and pull myself to standing. “I’ll go take that shower now.”

Her mouth slackens in surprise. “Okay. Towels are beside the shower. But the water won’t be warm yet.”

I manage a wooden smile as I leave her sitting in front of the fire. A cold shower. Great.

Although, a cold shower is probably what I need right now anyway.

I need to cool off and put some distance between us before she figures me out completely.