Chapter 10 Caroline
TEN
Caroline
His dimples haven’t disappeared since he kissed me.
The sight of them makes me deliriously happy—my stomach tipping with excitement, my hands shaking with anticipation.
When I first arrived here, I was unsure how I’d feel being inside this house that now belongs to him.
The news traveled around town quicker than lice in a kindergarten classroom.
Everyone has an opinion on the matter, and they’re mostly not favorable.
I’d be lying if I said their reactions didn’t cloud my own opinion.
It’s an uphill battle, the pack mentality is seeded so deep it’s a fight I wish I didn’t have to wage.
It means I’m like them. But, the second he kissed me, any sort of hesitation I had about him or this huge whopper of a purchase vanished into the salt-filled air.
He’s shown me, unmasked, how much he wants me.
His touch sends fire through my veins, the heat of his gaze ricochets to parts of my body in ways I didn’t know existed.
I want Tahoe in every single way a woman can possibly want a man.
His kindness bleeds into his masculinity in a way that makes his whole package something close to perfection.
We’re sitting at a broken table in the dining room of the bed and breakfast. He’s cobbled a fix to steady the wooden legs.
The orange of the sunset is slanting in the large curtainless window, casting a dim glow on everything it touches.
The place came with a lot of furniture, and it’s a little creepy.
The Homers locked up and fled town after the attacks.
They never returned. Several members of their family were killed or harmed on that fateful day, and I don’t think Mr. Homer recovered from the loss.
There are family photos still hanging next to the old olive green fridge, left behind in an attempt to make a quick exit.
After I swallow a bite of the Reuben sandwich my mama packed for me, I say, “Maybe you should rebuild instead of renovating.” The image of the kids’ smiling faces that would be around my age forces the statement even if it’s not true.
Tahoe notices where I’m looking. “It has good bones. Even if it’s haunted,” he says, grinning wide when he catches my attention. “You can’t tell me it doesn’t.”
I can’t. Most of the community believes this place should have been a town landmark or a city building, hence the uproar caused by an outsider buying it. I bite my cheek, sip my water bottle, and turn a discerning eye to the kitchen. “It needs a lot of work.”
“What would you do in here?” he asks, extending his arm to the space around him. The tone of his voice sounds like he’s asking a question of a different caliber, one that makes my whole body feel hot and wiry, my mouth bone dry. I’d do anything he wanted in here, that’s what I’d do in here.
Renovations, I remind myself. “I’d probably gut the kitchen entirely.
Everything needs to be updated. You know that already, though.
I like the floors. They’re original,” I reply, standing, my gaze focused on the light hardwood, instead of on the man that is making me feel completely insane.
Pacing toward the window, I catch sight of an airplane in the distance.
“What if I want to skydive?” The question bubbles out before I have time to tamp it back, making it something more hesitant and unsure.
“Could you take me?” I pivot to face him.
His face darkens as his eyes rake my body. “I can’t take you, but I can go up with you. You’d have to go tandem with a jump master. I don’t have that qual.”
I laugh. “You say it like it’s a crime. I was just wondering. Taking an interest in the new ventures of my airport, that’s all.”
“I wish I could take you,” he replies, snaking an arm out to pull me close. “I’ll work on getting that qualification now that we’ll be jumping on a regular basis, okay? Then I can take you.”
His arms are enormous, swallowing every inch of skin they touch.
“You don’t trust Aiden?” I ask. Tahoe’s arms stiffen, his whole body rigid with tension. It’s confusing. “You’d jump tandem with him, right? Aren’t you guys sort of like, the best in the world at what you do? Skydiving included?”
He softens a little. “I don’t trust you with anyone except me.”
“Why?” That womanly tact begins crawling out, hoping for praise and compliments. It’s an uncontrollable urge because of him. “You think he might crash land?” I tease.
He shivers. An honest-to-God shiver. “No,” he growls. “He would never.”
“What are we talking about here? I was joking.”
Tahoe grits his teeth as his hands clamp tighter on my waist. “I trust in his ability to do his job. I don’t trust him with a woman. Especially not with you,” he says.
Jealousy. It feels so good. The ultimate in compliments, really. “I’ll wait for you to get the qualification then. So, if we crash land, it can be all your fault. Not your friends.” Twining my hands around his neck, I see his stress ease at my touch.
He pushes me back so he can look me square on, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “Please, Caroline. Now it’s a challenge. I’m going to have to scare the life out of you to prove a point. It’s going to be one step before crash landing.”
“That’s rude.” Releasing him, I fold my arms across my chest.
He quirks one brow. “You question my skill. That’s rude.”
“It’s not even a skill you have…yet,” I fire back, smiling. “You’re not a jump master.”
Tahoe’s hands slip down my waist and around to my ass. “Right now I want to show you a few of my other skills.”
“Kitchen demo? I hate to burst your bubble, but I have that skill, too,” I tease.
His gaze is fire as he watches my mouth while I speak.
Wetting his lips, he swallows hard, his grip firm against my backside.
“Not impressed with that,” I add, egging him on.
“What else do you have for me? What skill?”
His eyes spark open wide, then he nods slowly. “Something you’ll never forget, Sunny.”
It’s a threat. One I willingly accept without offense.
The sunlight has all but vanished since our conversation began, and now there’s just the low light from a chandelier with two working bulbs.
It’s easy to have more confidence than I should in the dark, with his hands owning me the way they are right now, so I press my mouth to his.
The response is immediate and real—the lighting of a fire that has never been here before.
He pulls me into his lap, and the bulge between his legs is so mountainous I inhale sharply.
“You’re feeling one of my skills right now,” Tahoe says, nuzzling his face into my neck.
The scruff on his cheeks and chin scrapes against my neck.
“Isn’t that more of a gift than a skill?” I ask, my voice breaking. Caroline May doesn’t play games like this—she doesn’t play games at all. Against his lips, I steer away. “Why do you call me Sunny? You think I’m the sun? My sunny disposition?”
I feel his grin against my skin. “A touch more morbid than that,” he admits, bringing his hands up to hold my face in place as he works his mouth against mine for a beat or two. “The earth would die without the sun,” he growls, then looks me directly in the eye. “Sunny.”
I do die a little inside, right at this moment. At least the little girl with dreams of a man sweeping her off her feet swooned.
Tahoe groans and pushes me out of his lap with that look in his eye that turns my stomach upside down.
Now that I understand what it means, I know I’ve seen it many times in the past month.
Dozens of times, when I mistook it for irritation or annoyance.
It seems I’m as delusional and blind as my friends say I am.
A loud bang on the front door sends both of us across the room.
Instinctively, he pushes me behind him with a straight arm before he opens the door with the other.
“I saw your bikes when I was driving by. Just wanted to stop in,” Shirley says, peeking at me around Tahoe’s body.
“What are you guys up to? Congratulations, by the way,” Shirley says, focusing on him instead of me.
“You have some big balls. Buying this place. Man!”
“Shirley,” I cry. “Stop it!”
Tahoe chuckles and opens the door wide enough for my friend to slip through.
Shrugging, she says, “He does! Whether he knows it or not. Don’t be such a prude, Caroline,” she says, and then licks her lips. “I was congratulating him on purchasing another piece of Bronze Bay.”
He raises one brow. “Another piece?” he asks, a half smirk pulling the corner of his mouth.
Shirley cranes her neck to look at me and lets her gaze float back to Tahoe. “Yeah,” she replies.
“Oh, my god! I’m right here!” Suddenly, I don’t want Shirley meddling in my love life, or lack thereof. “Humans can’t be purchased!” I shout, throwing my hands up.
Tahoe’s smile fades to something more somber. “They are, though.” He runs a hand through his hair, the tattoos under his biceps peek from his shirt.
Shirley and I both look at him, with what I’m sure is the standard, horrified expression. I’m reminded of what he is. What he’s capable of.
“I closed with your mama tonight. She mentioned you two are having dinner up on the hill tomorrow,” Shirley says, doing her best impression of me, trying to wield the power of the Southern topic change.
I’m still thinking about what it is Tahoe does when he’s working—the things he’s been exposed to that I have no clue about.
He responds to Shirley’s statement by making a joke about the house on the hill and confirms the plans.
I wasn’t nervous about the dinner. Not until now.
What if they ask him what he does? Will he answer in generic code words to hide the truth?
They continue to talk, and I don’t chime in until I hear a lull in conversation. “You going to the spot tonight?” Sometimes they have parties on weekday nights if the weather is nice.