CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
After stomping through the heavy snowfall of what might become a Christmas blizzard, I find Frankie in the barn with Greta.
My stride is nearly silent as I approach the horse’s stall where the redhead is hiding.
She snuck out of the house after tucking Ronnie into bed.
If privacy is what she’s looking for, she’s not going to get that from me.
“Need an escape?”
She shivers regardless of the heated interior. Her haunted green eyes latch onto mine. “Always.”
My nod is slow but steady. “I thought we should talk.”
“That’s not ominous or anything.”
An easy chuckle rumbles free. This version of Frankie is manageable. I was at a total loss while she was crying. Offering a sympathetic shoulder to lean on isn’t our norm.
“You handled that well,” I offer as a peace agreement.
“Are you surprised?”
I dip my chin. “It’s unfamiliar territory. For both of us. Not sure how I would’ve responded.”
“Probably wouldn’t have gotten yourself in that position to begin with.”
My grimace tries to be empathetic. “The holidays can be heavy.”
Frankie’s grin lacks its usual sass. “Especially for someone who never celebrates.”
“Was that too much?”
I probably should’ve asked sooner, but I’ve trained myself to solely focus on Ronnie. It’s a reflexive habit at this point. More so, this woman has proved to be fiercely independent. If she’s not pleased, I’d be the first to know.
“It’s strange to witness the power of love. The devotion and comfort and affection. I… envy you,” she admits on a whisper.
My brows lift. “I can’t imagine why.”
“Is that hard to believe? There’s so much warmth in your home, embedded in every fiber. The entire town is wrapped around your little finger. You’re worshipped around here. That’s the breeding ground of jealousy for a person like me.”
The persistent ache in my chest makes an appearance, reminding me of everything I’m missing. “Don’t be jealous of me.”
“Easy for you to say.” Frankie drops her gaze, drifting a palm across Greta’s neck. “Tonight was another reminder of what I’ll never have.”
“Who says you can’t have it?”
She shakes her head. “I’m not meant to be a kept woman trapped behind white picket fences. That’s not a secret. But sometimes I forget how far apart we are.”
The despondent note in her voice slashes at me. “Do you want a family?”
A sound of hollow amusement trickles from her. “Can’t you see I’m having a bit of a pity party, stud? Nobody else is invited to attend.”
“Is that your attempt to get rid of me?”
“Stubborn man,” she mutters. “Can’t take a hint if it was stamped on his forehead.”
My boots remain firmly planted on the concrete floor. I smirk at the bold words she wrote in the worn leather. Frankie takes pride in winning and isn’t the type to surrender, but her mood is off. That’s really saying something, seeing as this woman has more sides than a decagon.
I squint at her rigid posture. “Planning to run?”
Her glare is a loaded weapon when she aims it at me over her shoulder. “As if I’d tell you.”
“Didn’t take you for a quitter, menace. Gonna prove me wrong?”
Her sigh is hardly an answer. “I won’t get far in this snowstorm.”
A sudden urgency pushes me three steps forward. “You said I could trust you. Don’t abandon Ronnie.”
“What will you give me to stay?”
“What do you want?”
She licks her lips. “A distraction.”
I don’t move or even breathe. “Such as?”
Frankie turns toward me, giving me the full impact of her dangerous appeal. “Why don’t you date?”
“We’ve been over this.”
“Have we?” She tips her head, studying me closely. “I might need a refresher. It’s been nearly six years since Nina passed. That’s a long time to go without.”
My heart thumps to a hollow beat. “Are you trying to hurt me?”
“More like understand.”
“I’m not interested in complications,” I remind her. “Most women my age aren’t dating for the fun of it. They want to get married eventually or at least have a serious commitment. I’m a dead end in that department.”
“Are my ears deceiving me?” Frankie sways closer, walking two sharp fingernails up the zipper of my coat. “Or do you want a fuck buddy?”
The suggestion in her tone curdles my stomach. “That’s not what I said.”
“It’s what you didn’t say that I heard.”
I scowl. “We’re not sleeping together.”
She blinks up at me, drawing attention to our height difference. “But you want to sleep with someone?”
“No,” I snap.
“Are you sure? It doesn’t have to mean anything. Just two consenting adults in need of an orgasmic release.”
The thought of another woman’s hands on me is worse than dozens of spiders crawling over my body. “I don’t want anyone else.”
Frankie cocks her head, a slow grin quirking her lips. “Does that mean you want me?”
My jaw clenches to the point of cracking a molar as I refuse to answer.
Her scoff smacks my denial to the peaked ceiling. “You may never have sex again at this rate.”
In an impulsive move I’ll probably regret, I cinch an arm around her waist and yank her body flush against mine. Warmth instantly engulfs me as if we’re standing by a blazing fire. A soft groan slips from my pressed lips. I didn’t know how starving I’ve been for touch until she’s snug against me.
It’s just a hug, but the significance goes far beyond a simple embrace. The close contact exchanges a comfort we both desperately crave. But Frankie is resistant to accept the relief while clutched tight in my arms.
She’s stiffer than an oak board in my hold, but I don’t let go.
My palm smooths along her back in lazy strokes.
After a few passes, she begins to relax.
A shudder trembles through her limbs. In the next breath, she exhales raggedly and slumps into me.
Based on her reaction, she hasn’t been on the receiving end of a gentle caress in a long time.
Maybe ever. My gut clenches just picturing what she’s suffered.
Seconds stretch into minutes. Silence settles around us. For once, it’s not hollow or tense. In the stillness of this moment, we’ve found each and met in the middle. It almost feels like the warmth of companionship.
But then Frankie shoves me away as if I’ve offended her.
“Don’t touch me,” she hisses.
“Menace,” I murmur and reach for her again.
“No!” She swats at her cheeks in frantic motions. Whether she’s crying in anger or sadness remains to be seen.
But either way, I pushed her too far. It feels like the air has been snatched from my lungs. “Fuck, I didn’t mean—”
Her laugh is brittle. “Liar. You’ve been forcing me to comply for weeks.”
“Don’t make it sound like that.”
“It’s exactly like that!” Frankie tosses her hands up. “I didn’t want this job, but you made it impossible to leave.”
“Shit,” I wheeze. “I was just trying to make Ronnie happy.”
“Which is admirable, but at the expense of my free will. Your daughter is incredible and deserves only the best. Why she insists on me being her nanny I’ll never know.
And to answer your earlier accusation, I won’t abandon her.
No matter what you do to piss me off. But that doesn’t excuse your behavior or change the fact I didn’t choose this. I’m stuck here one way or another.”
“You’re making me sound like the bad guy. A hug isn’t some depraved act.”
“It is to me,” Frankie snarls. “Your pity is repulsive.”
My grunt is loud. “I don’t pity you.”
“It doesn’t matter.” Frankie pushes past me, stomping down the barn aisle like a furious mare on a rampage. “I’m going to bed. Don’t follow me.”
“As if I’d dare,” I call to her retreating form.
And in the quiet that follows, I realize I don’t regret it.