Chapter 2
C aleb set the painting on the top of his boot and watched Brigit hip-check a dresser into place between the box springs and mattress.
He hadn’t seen her dressed so casually in years.
Not since the days he’d hung out with Justin on his farm, when she’d be out on the riding lawn mower, her hair in the messy bun at the top of her head.
Then, he’d had such a huge fucking crush on her. She’d been the cutest girl alive.
She’d gone from cute to sexy. Her curves had filled out, making his mouth water at the woman she’d become. For a while he’d wondered if she’d grow taller than him. But she’d stopped before reaching six feet, and he’d managed to squeak past.
It didn’t matter, their height. At one time, they’d fit perfectly together. Until he’d endured a teenage boy’s worst nightmare—being busted by her mother.
You will get dressed and you will leave and you will forget you know my daughter’s name . None of the fires he’d been in scared him as much as Joan Walker’s voice undulating with rage.
He’d been allowed to stay friends with Justin and that was only because it would’ve attracted attention otherwise.
Justin might’ve known Caleb was hot for his sister, but he didn’t know that he and Brigit had crossed any lines.
Or that he’d snuck into her room and out to meet her in the fields all summer to make out and experiment the way kids that age do.
She brushed a few strands of stray blond hair out of her face, shaking him out of the past and into the present. While she looked sexier than ever, she still had dark crescents under her eyes and a perpetual frown.
For today, he allowed himself to absolve himself of the anger and hurt he’d been harboring since that fateful night she’d ghosted him.
He’d had plenty of time to come to terms with his decision last night, when he and Justin had spent three hours hosing down and washing the horse trailer so her furniture wouldn’t get horse shit all over it and smell like manure.
He didn’t miss her sigh as she hopped down to the concrete.
“You’ve been hauling all morning,” he said. “Why don’t you take a breather?”
She arched a light brow. “Are you going to sit and rest?”
The corner of his mouth hitched. Always with the attitude.
But usually only toward him. He’d noticed the difference as a kid.
Toward her parents, teachers, and classmates, she was Perfect Brigit.
To him—Sassy Brigit. He used to think that meant he was special, but no.
The night he’d had his ever-loving mind blown, she must not have felt the same.
Her mom had caught them together and Brigit had been done with him. Just like that.
Ancient history, and memories like that had no business surfacing on a day like today. She was hurting and pale and as homeless as he was. Maybe a little less, since Justin’s house was the home she’d grown up in.
The place Caleb had spent most of his childhood in was in a landfill.
He was trying to rebuild, but the insurance payout was dismal, and building a house out of town in Moore, Minnesota, was more expensive than he’d thought.
He choked back the stress that threatened to rise.
He had his ranch, and his buddy Jesse was helping with the cattle.
But the weight of not having an address to call his own descended on him at random moments. Like now, standing outside of a white horse trailer with a mass-produced picture of a fake seaside resting on his boot.
This picture had Joan Walker all over it. He might not have had much to do with Brigit since he was eighteen, but not once had she dreamed about beaches or lighthouses. Blooming alfalfa pastures and pole barns, maybe.
“Here.” He handed Brigit the frame. The whole package only weighed ten pounds and the blanket he’d wrapped it in was less than two pounds. She looked so damn exhausted, he didn’t want her carting another nightstand out on her back.
She took it without argument, proving just how tired she was.
He went back inside. Justin was dragging out boxes from the bedroom and dumping them on the living room floor.
“I want to see it all together,” Justin said. “I want to get everything in one trip so we don’t have to leave Bridge here alone.”
“In case Assface comes back.” He’d never liked Oliver. The guy hadn’t passed up a single opportunity to insinuate that Caleb was a loser for staying in Moore. Then Oliver had moved back, acting like a worldly scholar—one who needed his dad to get him a job.
Justin sneered, his blue eyes flashing. “Bastard won’t get another chance to make her feel like shit.”
Caleb had his issues with Brigit, but Oliver was a controlling, insecure idiot. “And she can’t drive away if he shows.”
Justin nodded. “I wouldn’t put it past him to watch and lock us out before we can get the rest.”
“Yeah, given the power play he pulled with her yesterday.” Last night, Brigit’s sobs resonating from Justin’s phone had made Caleb nearly homicidal. Suddenly, he hadn’t cared one bit how she’d ignored him; he’d only wanted to rush to her side and comfort her. He’d practically begged to help today.
“You can always take the truck and unload it with her,” Justin said. “I can wait here. The jackass won’t try anything with me.”
“That’ll work.” Brigit might have something to say about being alone with him, but her ex would give Caleb more trouble than Justin. He glanced at all the items yet to load. “Is all this going with us?”
“He only paid for what gave him control.” Justin’s expression darkened. “He guilted Brigit into paying for the rest. She worked for me and did online tutoring. Mom and Dad helped her with the rest.”
How had Brigit missed what Oliver was like? Or hadn’t she wanted to know?
Caleb carried the dresser drawers from the bedroom to the living room.
The plan was to pack the large items into the trailer and use the smaller stuff like boxes and drawers to fill in the empty spaces between.
He dropped his load and ignored the scrappy lace spilling out of it.
He had enough Brigit fantasies haunting his life.
His adult mind had filled them in with richer details as he’d gotten older.
The confirmation wouldn’t help him sleep at night.
Because he wasn’t rubbing one off in the borrowed childhood bedroom of his friend while a despondent Brigit lay next door in her old room.
His claim that they wouldn’t have to cross paths wasn’t necessarily true. Justin slept in the master bedroom his brother Travis had vacated when he’d built his own house. The room Caleb was using and the one Brigit was staying in were upstairs. And there was only one bathroom on that level, so…
But he was gone twenty-four hours at a time, so he’d only be tortured during his days off.
The door banged open and Justin jingled the keys. “She’s already in the truck.”
Caleb grabbed the keys and went out. When he climbed into the F-250, Brigit was in the passenger seat with her arms folded, but her standard cool look was gone. Her head rested against the window and she curled into the door as much as her seat belt would allow.
He didn’t know what to say, so he started the engine.
“I bet they’re all wondering what’s going on.” Her voice was small as her gaze touched on each house in the neighborhood.
Caleb followed her gaze. The houses were quiet. No one peered out any window, and there hadn’t been much traffic. From the horse trailer full of furniture, it’d be clear Brigit and Oliver were moving out. It might even be obvious they weren’t moving out together.
“It wasn’t your fault.” Those words felt both stupid and necessary.
“His cheating wasn’t my fault. But I should’ve seen how dismissive and manipulative he is.” She paused. “He’s subtle though. Not that it would’ve made a difference if he weren’t.”
“Have you told your parents yet?” Joan and Rick Walker lived in Arizona. Joan would outrun cops to be by Brigit’s side.
“Nope. Mom really liked Oliver.” Was that why she hadn’t called her mother yet? Afraid Joan would tell her she should’ve stuck it out and worked on the relationship?
They wound through town and hit the highway that would take them to Justin’s.
They’d have to pass all her cousins’ houses on the way when they turned off the highway.
She’d asked Justin not to mention anything to them.
Apparently the thought of a family swarm of support and comfort frightened her.
Was it because that would call attention to her ordeal?
He didn’t know, but all the Walkers would find out eventually.
Oliver was smart to move out of Moore as soon as possible.
At Justin’s place, he backed the trailer up to the shop entrance. Brigit hopped out and opened the large sliding door. Together, they offloaded all the items without talking more than was needed to give directions and figure out where to place stuff.
He tried to ignore how much he enjoyed being around her.
She wasn’t outright ignoring him, or giving him the stiff nod she used in public to keep people from asking why she wasn’t giving her brother’s good friend the time of day.
Every time she walked by, he caught a whiff of her lotion, or shampoo, or whatever lightly scented product she used.
He’d lived too long by himself if it was a thrill to smell a girl.
But Brigit wasn’t a girl anymore and he was reminded of that each time she bent over to pick up a box.
The way her stretchy pants caressed her ass filled him with jealousy.
She’d finally allowed herself some dessert and wasn’t all angles and bones.
Of course she’d looked good then, too, but this seemed more…
natural. More like the girl who used to sprint through the pastures and swing herself up onto a horse bareback.
More like a woman who was comfortable in her own skin. A sexy woman he wanted to touch. A lot.