Chapter 46
Chapter Forty-Six
brIELLE
T he house is quiet when I crawl out of Caleb’s bed and put on one of his sweaters. It hangs nearly to my knees, and I have to shove the sleeves up to my elbows to keep them from swallowing my hands entirely. But it smells like cinnamon and the cedar undertones of his aftershave. I breathe in the combination.
Lavender bleeds out from me, but I ignore it.
Caleb stirs, his hand reaching out for where I’d been only a moment before. I freeze but blow out my breath when he relaxes back into the pillows. My stomach growls, and I cross the house, closing his door without letting the door click shut.
The kitchen is quiet, too, as I start my electric kettle and spread cream cheese over a bagel. A mug of warm tea in my hands, I lean against the island counter and watch the pair of finches that have been in the closest tree the last few mornings since I’ve been officially moved in. After a few minutes, one bravely lands on the new bird feeder Camden and I put on the window above the sink yesterday. Officially, Caleb was watching him. But he’d hung out on the back porch and let the two of us mostly do our own thing.
The finch sifts through the seed, dropping a few pieces to the ground, and then takes off. I sip my tea. Unease sits low in my belly, but I can’t quite figure out why. Moving in had been easy, even easier than moving into Emily’s guest house. Caleb had enlisted the help of his dad, Mark, and between the two of them, every single piece I’ve purchased since being in Creek Falls was safely stashed away in Caleb’s closet and room and bathroom. A few of my pillows stayed behind as well as a couple decorations since Emily was fine with me keeping the guest house set up as a nest of sorts.
Not that I’ll really need it for a while. Heats only happen every six months.
Camden was beside himself when he realized what was happening. He’s been glued to my side for the last three days, walking me through every nook and cranny of the house, showing me his favorite places to draw and read and build forts. Being with Caleb every night? A woman’s dream come true, honestly.
And yet… I take another bite of bagel in the hopes it makes the turbulent roiling settle.
Footsteps echo down the hallway. I palm my mug, holding it in both hands in front of my belly, almost like it’s a shield. Ethan pads into the room and heads straight for the coffee bar. His hand brushes my hip as he passes me, though he doesn’t offer a greeting. Mint follows him, and I breathe it in, letting it soothe the worry that’s become my companion since the surprise family date to Coeur d’Alene.
It feels wrong that I’m worried at all, though.
If moving in had been seamless, living here is… not quite perfect. But more natural than I’d expected. There’s always an awkwardness in the beginning, you adjusting to the other person while they’re doing the same with you. There’s been hardly any of that, though, with the Taylors.
I focus on Ethan over the rim of my own mug, watching as he pulls down a travel cup and fills it with coffee and a small amount of milk. His eyes are tired, the dark circles not quite gone from the stress that was my heat last week. His beard isn’t as groomed, either, longer than he typically wears it and the edges not cleaned up. It’s enough to mostly hide his frown—a frown so deep, it’s practically etched into his face, the small lines around his mouth becoming more permanent every day.
I haven’t seen him smile once since…
I think back, and the worry tightens again. He hasn’t smiled at me once.
Suddenly, the worry and the unease make sense.
I’d lived with Brett for eight years, had been married to him for nearly seven. But for the last few of those, it had felt like we’d been more roommates than partners, orbiting around each other and only occasionally meeting in the middle.
This… whatever this is between Ethan and me has the same feeling, like we’re circling each other and only sometimes are near enough to touch, to talk, to have a sense or semblance of any kind of intimacy.
Ethan glances up, his frown even deeper.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, his voice nothing short of a growl.
Oh shit. It’s me whining like that. I swallow the sound and shake my head.
“I’m fine,” I say.
Bringing up the mess inside my head when he’s getting ready to work the cattle all day is asinine in the extreme. And it’s probably just all in my head, anyway. Ethan’s never been quick to words, but his actions have always spoken loud enough.
Even now, he closes the distance between us, his coffee forgotten in favor of cupping my face and tilting it to keep my gaze on his. His eyes search mine. Whatever he sees has his mouth tightening. He drops an arm to my waist and lifts me onto the counter, easing between my legs. He pulls the mug from my hands and sets it behind me.
All the while, his gaze never leaves mine. He doesn’t smile, either. Doesn’t say anything.
His lips are soft but demanding, and I let him control it, let him pull me tight against him and thread his hand into my hair, let him take the kiss deeper and deeper until I’m a mess of need.
He pulls away, tracing his lips along my jaw.
My chest heaves and lavender surrounds us. I need him to knot me, lay me out on this counter until I can’t think. That horrible feeling of not belonging that had faded over the summer is nearly gone again, pushed aside by his scent and body. He grinds into me, not caring at all that my thighs are wet with my slick and messing up his pants. I palm his neck and play with the ends of his hair.
He trails his mouth down my throat, letting his teeth scrape my skin. I arch into him, gasping, and his mint blends with my own scent, cocooning us. All rational thought drips away. His teeth bite into my shoulder, hard enough I cry out.
He grunts and pulls me closer to the edge, undoing his jeans before wedging an arm under my leg and tipping me back just enough to let his dick brush my slick-soaked panties.
“Pull them to the side, or I’m tearing them,” he mutters against my skin.
I skim my hand down his chest before doing as he instructs. He bites me again, right over top of the last one, and I cry out a curse. His tip teases me, just barely easing in.
“Ethan,” I gasp, begging, and close my eyes. “Please.”
He pushes forward, just a hairsbreadth of movement.
“Ethan.” Caleb’s voice is grim.
I open my eyes to find Caleb grabbing the iced coffee from the fridge and pouring it into a travel cup nearly identical to the one Ethan had pulled. He’s dressed in dark jeans and a black shirt that stretches across his chest. Lavender floods the kitchen in a new wave. Ethan kisses the stinging skin of my shoulder as he sighs. He pulls away from me, tucking his dick back into his jeans, and fixes my panties before looking over his shoulder.
“What happened?” he asks.
I wiggle on the counter, trying to find relief from the pent-up mess he’s made me. He grabs both my knees, forcing me still.
“Got called in. That nasty one down in Boise broke free. They’ve been having awful winds all week.” He snaps the lid on the cup and tosses the empty cold brew pitcher in the sink. “I called Mom and she’s fucked all week. School started Friday, so Miranda’s back to weekends only.”
“Mom’s in Jackson since it’s Wednesday.” Ethan grabs his phone and sends a text. After only a minute, he curses. “Emily’s seasonal help is back to school, too. She’s running the rides this week, splitting them with Melissa.”
He holds out his phone toward Caleb.
“Damn,” Caleb mutters.
The euphoria brought on by Ethan’s touch fades away. I grab the mug of tea and take a sip. Caleb grabs a string cheese from the fridge, runs a hand through his hair, and then curses again.
He says, “My Dad might be able to take him. I can call?—”
“I can watch Cam,” I offer in a quiet voice.
Both men freeze, the kitchen going so quiet in a heartbeat that you could hear a pin drop. Their combined gazes are enough to have heat shooting through me again, and I perfume. I force a swallow and then take another drink of the tea.
Ethan runs a hand up the outside of my leg and then palms my waist, pulling me close to him again.
“You don’t have to,” he says.
“Are you sure?” Caleb asks at the same time.
My cheeks heat, and I clear my throat. “Yeah, it’s fine. It’s not like we haven’t spent time together already. He can hang out with me today and tomorrow. And Friday, too, if Lynn’s still working on getting her booth caught up.”
Ethan frowns. “You really don’t have to play babysitter.”
The word stings.
Babysitter . The babysitter fucking both dads, maybe. Like a damn porno or something. Is it too soon to be throwing around stepmom? Probably. But having no label is better than “ babysitter” . Like I’m some random person just hired by them. Something transient.
I drop my eyes to hide my frustration. And then I pull my hair over my shoulder, hiding the new mark from Ethan, when just avoiding his gaze doesn’t feel like enough.
Clearing my throat, I say, “We got the new seat for my car already, so it’s really no big deal.”
Caleb crosses the kitchen and kisses me, pulling me just far enough to the side to avoid Ethan.
“Thank you,” he murmurs against my lips.
I offer a small smile and kiss him again, needing his touch and scent and taste before he’s gone. After too short a time, he pulls away. Ethan does, too, after squeezing my knee.
“I need to get to the ranch,” he says when I grab his hand.
I force my breathing steady as I release him. Both men rush around the kitchen, pulling together the things they need. Ethan grabs the flannel thrown over a chair from yesterday and shrugs it on.
“We’ll be done by six,” Ethan says.
“I’ll call tonight,” Caleb offers.
“Be safe,” I tell them both. They nod in unison.
And then I’m alone in the kitchen.
Alone and wanting.
Again.
For a moment, I’m in that damn condo in Denver again.
And then I shove the feelings aside before they can swell up and drown me.