Chapter 11 That Cold Shower in Winter
That Cold Shower in Winter
Callan
I almost kissed Erin.
Three days had passed, and the memory only got brighter. Not one second faded. Erin’s body had pressed against me, her fingertips digging into my shoulder, holding on tight as I carefully lifted her over the puddle. Wine sweetened her breath on my neck.
Bloody hell…
That moment. That was when I stared at her lips too long and almost lost control.
I could imagine it, that kiss that never happened.
The relief of finally feeling her lips on mine would be like diving into the river on a summer day—the initial rush, my heart pounding faster, goosebumps prickling my skin, but the hot, hot sun urging me to stay longer…
even if I couldn’t find safe footing anymore because I was in too deep.
And I was in so deep.
I exhaled, slow and steady, and searched for answers in the blue skies soaring above the farm. Silence. No bolt of clarity from the heavens. I leaned my hip into the fence railing, pulled out my phone, and reread Cole’s messages.
Callan
Erin’s here with Til. She left her husband.
Cole
You tell her how you feel?
It’s too soon.
Life doesn’t always give us enough time to say what we need to. You can’t keep waiting.
I trusted my brother to understand better than anyone how precious every second of life was, but…
The timing was wrong.
I needed to fight the “I love you” threatening to blurt out every time I looked at Erin.
I was reading too much into how her dark eyes lingered on me or how she let me hold her a little too long.
She didn’t have feelings for me. She couldn’t.
Slick, polished city guys caught her eye.
Sure, I had plenty of money, and I scrubbed up okay, but there weren’t many places nearby to wine and dine a girl as classy as Erin—unless the annual church potluck counted.
And who was I, really?
I was the second-born son who’d been handed his dreams because everyone else’s life had turned to shit.
The fields of fledgling crops spreading to the horizon were mine because Cole lost his childhood sweetheart.
If I ever coaxed Erin into my bed, it would be because the man she loved first broke her heart.
For once, Cole was wrong. Erin deserved a chance to live her life without me weighing her down with the pressure of my feelings.
I could wait.
Callan
Miss you, Cole.
Cole
Miss you too, runt.
You’re not going to tell her, are you?
Not today.
But that almost kiss…
I ignored the tug in my chest begging me to run to the cottage and rest my tired eyes on her smile. When I’d waved the last of the workers home for the day, I headed straight to the house. Hat off. Boots off. I just needed to get through the back door and to my room.
Bronte’s head snapped up from the pile of papers spread over the kitchen island when I powered through without saying hi.
“Hey, Cal—”
“Sorry, Bron. Gimme a second. I just need to…” Get off. “I’ll wash up, and then you can talk to me about your latest amazing idea, yeah?”
Bronte’s eyebrow arched, but she shrugged and went back to fussing with the mess.
Hidden, locked in the bathroom, I stripped off my work shirt.
Sweat clung to my skin—not from the hours working in the fields but from thinking too much about her.
I flipped on the faucet, water tumbling from the showerhead, and yanked off the rest of my clothes.
My body was on fire. But when I stepped into the shower, the ice-cold water pelting my back was no relief.
My shoulder slouched against the painted duck feature trim Mim just had to have, and I screwed my eyes shut, my hand working up and down my cock to ease the tension that had been ripping me open at the seams all day.
Not quickly, though. The torture of my thoughts made it better.
I enjoyed taking my time when I thought about the woman who only loved me in my dreams.
It had been four years since I’d been with someone.
I wouldn’t have felt right taking another woman to my bed once I admitted my heart belonged to Erin.
No loss. My hand and the distant hope of her leaving that walking bag of upmarket wind she called a husband had been enough. No one compared to my girl.
I bit back the groan threatening to echo off the tiles.
If Erin were mine, I’d drag her back to the forest, just the two of us.
I’d twist her dark hair around my hand and pull her close enough to get her silky, wine-tinged breath on my lips instead of my neck.
Her sexy smile would tease me into kissing her everywhere…
I’d get my hands on every inch of her… Watch her drop to her knees in front of me…
An intense shudder of pleasure raced down my spine when my fantasy finally tipped me over the edge. But after I scrubbed off the day’s work and dressed in fresh clothes, a look of disgust reflected at me in the mirror.
I needed to be a stronger man than this.
“So, Bron… What’s with all the paper—”
I jolted to a stop in the kitchen doorway.
Mim was right. I needed to stop skipping church. Maybe then God would’ve spared me.
Erin was settled at the kitchen island beside Bronte, two glasses of white wine poured in front of them and fresh cupcakes within reach.
Matilda sat on the other stool. The tiny tot was too busy scribbling on her sketchpad to notice me.
My sister was just as unfazed by my walking into the room, but Erin’s gaze instantly dropped to the knot she twisted in the hem of her T-shirt.
“H-hey…” I said.
“Cal!” Matilda cried, sliding off the stool and racing to me. “We here for bath time!” She latched onto my leg for a hug.
“Oh, are you?” I gave her a serious look. “I don’t see your goggles.”
“Mummy say no goggles for walking.”
“She’s probably right, you know.” Swallowing heavily, I darted a look at the woman who’d just starred in one of my dirtiest fantasies.
Erin stared back at me.
No.
Not my face.
My…shirt?
I glanced down. I hadn’t toweled off properly, and Erin’s eyes were locked on the patches of white cotton clinging to my damp skin. The tip of her tongue moistened her lips before she pressed them together. God, why did she have to do that? I shoved my hands in my pockets and looked away.
This was a bloody disaster. So much for staying strong.
“Uh, guys?” Bronte’s face scrunched up with confusion. “Are you two fighting?”
“N-nah.” I cleared my throat. “No way.”
Erin let out a nervous laugh. “We don’t argue.”
True. We didn’t. Usually, we talked things through, but we’d both avoided mentioning what happened by the forest. And there was no way in hell I was admitting to Erin what I’d been fantasizing about before she’d landed in my kitchen.
Bronte’s eyebrows shot up to the ceiling. We weren’t fooling her. The tension in the room had been dialed up to awkward.
I forced a smile that was even less convincing. “So.” I leaned my shoulder against the fridge. This was far enough away that Erin wouldn’t see how hard it was for me to breathe. “What’s going on, Bron? What’s with all the paper?”
Bronte grinned. “I think I’ve finally settled on the job description.” She lifted an overstuffed red binder. “I’ve even started preparing an induction manual!”
Erin’s eyes darted between us as she lifted Matilda back on the stool. “What’s all this for?”
“Callan said we have to hire an accommodation manager to run the cottages,” Bronte explained. “Apparently, I can’t do it anymore.”
I sighed. “Bron, you agreed with me on this. You’re about to start a huge renovation and—”
“Yeah, yeah,” she grumbled, swatting a dismissive hand at me. “And my bed and breakfast will have too many guests, and it’ll be too much to handle on top of the farm shop and the accommodation. You’ve said all that already.”
A smile peeked over the top of Erin’s wine glass. “The man raises some fair points, you know.”
“Of course you’d take Cal’s side.” Bronte rolled her eyes. “You two…”
“Hey!” Erin said. “I’ve been sticking up for you! Why do you think Mim finally gave you her blessing about buying the sheep station? I took Til down there and bamboozled her with an afternoon of pure toddler magic to talk her out of disinheriting you.”
Bronte laughed. “Yeah, I know. Thanks.” She popped her arm around Erin’s shoulders and gave her a quick squeeze. “It’ll just be bittersweet to let go of my hold on this place, you know?”
“No one’s asking you to do that,” I said. “The farm is for the family. All of us. That won’t change.”
Erin added, “And no one denies you’ve done an incredible job with the cottages, Bron.
You’ve got everything running like clockwork.
” She reached over and tapped the red cover.
“You’ve got a binder. Now, you just have to find that one perfect person to run the cottages who loves this place as much as we do… ”
“Yeah…” Bronte said slowly, glancing at me, her eyebrow lifting. “I wonder who that could be…”