51. Thea
51
THEA
The moment I’d seen Mara step out of Shep’s house, annoyance had settled in. But I’d swallowed the feeling down because Shep hadn’t done anything to suggest I couldn’t trust him.
But everything she’d said only had the annoyance digging deeper and shifting to anger. And now, her words echoed in my head on repeat. “Anything for you.”
I took a deep breath, struggling to keep my anger reined in as I focused on Shep.
“I’ll just be inside,” Anson muttered, making a quick escape.
As I really took Shep in, reading the uncertainty and concern in his expression, my anger melted a fraction. “I’m a three. I was a five, but seeing your face brought it back down.”
Shep pulled me into him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t ask her to make the delivery. She just did.”
“I know.” I burrowed into his hold, breathing in sawdust and cedar. That brought the three down to a one. “I don’t want to be like Brendan.”
Shep reared back, brow furrowing. “What are you talking about?”
My fingers fisted in Shep’s tee. “He used to hate me talking to any guys. Even ones I worked with. I don’t want to be that person.”
“You’re not,” Shep assured me, brushing the hair away from my face. “You never could be.”
“I was jealous,” I admitted. “She’s known you for so much longer than I have.” I knew from Mara coming into the bakery that she’d been born and raised here. She and Shep had gone to school together from kindergarten on up. That was a history I wouldn’t ever share with him.
“Thorn,” Shep whispered, pulling me closer. “Doesn’t matter if I spent every waking second with her since birth. There would still only be one person who knows me best. You.”
His words soothed a little more of my raw edges. Shep’s thumb ghosted over my bottom lip. “You saw parts of me I didn’t think I’d ever let anyone into. You saw all of me. Healed things I didn’t even know were still broken. And there’s only one woman I’ve ever loved. You.”
My breath hitched. “Do not make me cry, Shepard Colson.”
His lips twitched. “Baby, you full-name me like that, and you know I have to fuck you.”
I squealed as he hauled me up and over his shoulder. “Shep! Anson is here,” I hissed.
“Good thing there’s a barn.”
“I can’t believe how much they change the space. It’s incredible. Like we’re hovering over the fields out there.” My words were quiet, reverent as I stepped back, taking in the two massive windows I’d helped Shep and Anson install—after Shep’s and my detour to the barn.
Shep’s arm slid around my shoulder. “Can’t you just imagine sitting here and taking in all your amazing landscaping ideas? ”
Warmth spread through me at how excited he was about my vision for the backyard. “Curling up with a book and a cup of tea,” I said, picturing it now. “God, it’s going to be breathtaking when it snows.”
“That house envy is rearing its ugly head, so I’m going to get back to the Victorian,” Anson muttered, heading for the door.
I glanced over my shoulder. “Tell Rho hi for me.”
“Will do.” Anson gave Shep a salute. “See you tomorrow, boss.”
“Later,” Shep called back.
I turned back to the view in front of me. You could see everything through the massive windows. From Castle Rock to the Monarch Mountains. “I don’t think I’d ever leave this spot.”
Shep grinned out at the view. “Not even for the massive tub I ordered for the primary bedroom?”
“Okay, maybe for that.”
Shep’s grip on my shoulder tightened a fraction. “I don’t think I want to give this one up.”
I looked up at him in question.
“I’m keeping it.”
A smile tugged at my lips. Shep had been moving from flip to flip, never settling anywhere longer than a year at most. The moment things were done, he started getting twitchy to get on to the next one. “Are you sure?”
Shep kept staring out the windows. “There’s something special about this one. I felt it the moment I pulled up. And it’s the place where you first let me in. I can’t let it go, not to someone who won’t understand what it all means. Not to anyone. I can see myself building a life here.” His head dipped, gaze coming to me. “A family.”
My heart hammered against my ribs. “Love that idea.”
And I wanted to be a part of it. Wanted to paint myself into the picture. To tend the gardens and watch amber-eyed little ones chasing each other around the yard.
“I’m glad.” Shep lowered his lips to mine, kissing me softly and slowly. When he pulled back, there was a warmth in his eyes that spoke of love, and more than that, hope. “Let’s go home.”
“Sounds good to me.” My back muscles demanded a bath but not before I tackled chores at home. “I need to water the plants in the greenhouse and the garden.”
“I’ll help,” Shep offered, leading me outside.
“Not going to argue with you there.”
That was another thing about falling in love with Shep. He was a true partner. I tackled nothing alone unless I wanted to. While he wasn’t the best cook, he always offered to help. He always cleaned up after. He threw my clothes in with his when he did laundry, and he always helped with the yardwork.
“Leave your car here. I’ll drive you to and from work tomorrow,” Shep suggested.
I sent a look his way. “You don’t have to?—”
“I want to.”
I wasn’t going to argue with that. Just like I didn’t argue as Shep’s hands gripped my hips as he helped me into his vehicle. Or when he lingered after he’d fastened my seat belt.
As Shep pointed his truck in the direction of home, I studied his scruff-covered jaw and the slope of his nose. “You’re a catch, you know that?”
His gaze flicked to me, amusement threaded through it. “That so?”
“It is,” I told him. “I like doing life with you.”
More than was safe, but I didn’t care. For once, I would be reckless and let the chips fall where they may.
Shep’s fingers threaded through mine. “You make that life a hell of a lot more fun.”
I grinned at him. “You’re not too bad at that yourself. Even if I do still have hay stuck in my hair.”
Shep barked out a laugh. But he didn’t let go of my hand the whole way home. It felt like a promise, a vow. And I held on to the feeling of that even as Shep let go of me to get out of the truck.
He opened my door and helped me out. “Inside for dinner first or out to the greenhouse?”
“Greenhouse. If I sit, I’m not getting back up.”
Shep chuckled. “Fair enough. I’ll run you a bath after dinner. ”
That simple, tender offer swirled through me in the best way as we headed for the gardens. But the warmth died, only to be replaced by icy dread as my steps faltered. What I was seeing didn’t compute right away.
The image came together in pieces. Smashed-out panes on the greenhouse. Gardens torn to bits. And on the one intact side of the structure, there was spray paint. A single word.
WHORE.