Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
A sharp, piercing bark rang out as they climbed the porch steps. Rush pushed the door open, and a blur of brown-and-black fur barreled out to greet him.
“Hey, boy.” Rush gave him a firm ear rub and solid pats as Riggs wriggled and shivered in doggy ecstasy, until his sharp black eyes locked on Lily.
She froze in the doorway as Riggs trotted over, nose twitching.
Good dog. Remember me? I’m the nice lady from the cabin.
Riggs’s pointy ears tilted forward, and his long, regal head cocked. Lily tensed, too, half expecting him to growl or lunge for her throat. Both were terrifying, but she schooled her expression and tried to project cool, confident energy as he made his way over to her.
He nosed her directly right in the crotch.
“Oh!” she squeaked, confidence be damned.
“I think he missed you,” Rush murmured, amusement etched all over his unfairly handsome face.
He’d taken off his coat, leaving his broad shoulders perfectly framed against the doorframe he leaned against with his arms crossed.
The casual, unapologetically masculine energy he emanated made her belly flutter.
Lily frowned, hoping it hid the color she knew was creeping up her cheeks. Rush’s grin deepened.
“I think he’s looking for dinner,” she grumbled, stepping back gingerly.
Riggs followed, ears perking up with an interest that was equal parts intimidating and strangely appealing.
He really was a majestic-looking dog, with his regal head and powerful body, and if she squinted just right, he seemed less scary and more badass.
Kind of like his owner, now that she thought about it.
Riggs sniffed again. Good, Cujo. Nice boy. Remember me? We had a moment at the cabin? You like me, remember?
She caught a glimpse of pointy white teeth. Her hands went clammy.
“Riggs,” Rush barked. “Manners.”
Riggs pulled back and seemed to judge her yet again and find her lacking before trotting back to his owner. She tried not to be offended. Instead, her attention drifted back to Rush’s hands as he gave Riggs another rubdown while the dog closed his eyes and leaned into his touch blissfully.
That makes two of us, bud.
Inside, the house was even better than she’d imagined.
Warm, extra-wide hardwood, a huge stone fireplace in the living room, and the kind of cozy charm she loved.
The furniture was oversized and simple, covered in country florals and meant to last generations.
None of that big-box store furniture for this gorgeous, character-filled home.
But the house felt hollow too.
And then she spotted why. Boxes lined the walls, some packed, some full and taped neatly up.
There was no Christmas tree in the corner.
No pine wreath on the door, no stocking hung from the fireplace.
Just a stack of firewood neatly stacked by the hearth and a flannel she recognized tossed over the couch.
“It’s a beautiful home,” she finally said, strangely sad again and trying to hide it.
“It was Gram and Pop’s.” He shrugged out of his sheepskin coat and turned to hang it in the closet.
“After Gram died and Pop went into the nursing home, he left it to me.” He bent to pet Riggs.
“Time for the next thing,” he finally said, straightening.
“The girls don’t want it. It’s too much house for them. ”
She nodded, her chest weirdly heavy again. For him, this house was an end, but for her it had always looked like her beginning. Ah. Well. She shook off the strange ache and smiled instead.
Rush held out his hands for her coat, and she stepped out of her boots. “Come back to the kitchen.”
She tried not to watch his butt as he led them into the spacious, open kitchen, but she was only human, and Rush Callahan had the world’s sexiest ass. She vaguely remembered sinking her teeth into those tight cheeks as he carried her over his shoulder to the cabin, and she grinned at the image.
God, he really was ridiculously gorgeous.
The kind of gorgeous that made rational thought optional.
Strong enough to scoop her up and carry her through a snowstorm, straight into the hottest weekend of her life.
Yes, maybe that was dramatic, but he’d saved her in more ways than one.
Who knew what would have happened to her if she had been alone in that storm?
Rush Callahan was dark and sexy and just dangerous enough to make her knees weak and her stomach flip like she was a teenager again. Too much to handle—and she wanted it all anyway.
Get it together, Lily.
The kitchen opened wide and bright—with a deep farmhouse sink under an oversized window.
Instinctively, Lily glanced through it, searching for a glimpse of the apple orchard.
Even in the winter dark, she could almost see the faint outline of rows of trees.
For as long as she could remember, she’d imagined herself there, a basket in her arms, a family to pick apples with.
He glanced back from the open fridge, lifting one eyebrow at her. “Okay?”
“Of course,” she said, aware of the blush rising hotly in her cheeks, but she smiled anyway. If she was going to spend any more time around Sheriff Callahan, she might as well get used to being permanently flushed.
She perched on a stool at the butcher-block island, forcing herself to focus on the kitchen instead of the way his back flexed with muscle as he worked.
His hair was longer now than at the cabin, still just as silky looking, and suddenly she wanted to run her fingers through it.
She’d kiss him right where it ended, just above the collar of his shirt, and taste all that warm, musky male skin.
Lord. One weekend of the greatest sex of her life and she was suddenly a hormonal teenager again.
She looked around to distract herself. The kitchen was safe territory, at least. It was straight out of her dreams. Open shelves, plenty of counter space, and a large window above the sink that probably framed a perfect view of the apple trees in bloom in the orchard out back.
“Did you eat?” Rush asked over his shoulder.
She winced, remembering her unfortunate date. “Does pretending to eat the breadbasket count?”
Rush glanced over. A swirl of dark, silky-looking hair fell over his forehead, giving him a rakish look. His mouth twitched in amusement. “That bad, huh?”
Guilt pricked at her. “I’m sure Bradley’s a very nice man.
” She hesitated then added wickedly, “When he’s not ingesting cheese.
But alas, I don’t think he’s the one for me,” she said lightly.
“I just hate disappointing all the well-meaning grandmas who keep setting me up with these wholesome, sensible men who talk about their digestion on the first date.”
He gave her a look that pinned her in place. “You could just say no.”
Heat crept up her throat, and she tugged at her sleeve. “I don’t like letting people down,” she admitted a trifle defensively. “I’m working on it.”
He didn’t press, just held her gaze with a steady look that made her want to squirm, and went back to rummaging in the fridge. “I’ll make you something to eat.”
“Okay,” she said, eyeing the contents of the fridge skeptically.
The shelves were exactly what she expected: a few take-out cartons of Chinese food, a gallon of milk, a package of deli meat and…
wine coolers? “Interesting choice of drink you have there,” she teased, nodding toward the fridge. “I would’ve pegged you for a beer guy.”
Rush glanced at the pink bottles, a smile tugging the corner of his mouth up and making her insides do a little dance again. Down, girl.
“Rachel and Sarah,” he said with a wry grin. “They drop by way too often to check on me. Rachel’s convinced I’ll become a hermit out here, and Sarah’s convinced my soulmate is one of her sorority sisters.” He shuddered and shook his head. “Drives me nuts. You want one? Or there’s beer, coffee—”
“A beer sounds perfect,” she said impulsively, surprising herself.
His smile widened as he handed her a bottle, and his fingers brushed against hers, sending another warm jolt straight through her body and all the way up to her nipples, making them tighten in response.
Still crazy amounts of chemistry there.
“How are your sisters?” she asked, trying desperately to look worldly and sophisticated, like standing in a man’s kitchen after she’d had life-altering sex with him and making small talk was a normal occurrence for her.
Rush turned back to the fridge, shifting and gathering things.
Clearly, he was not a stranger to this kind of situation.
“They’re good, mostly grown up now. Rachel lives in Northfield now to be closer to Pop, and Sarah’s in Buffalo, finishing up her senior year.
” He pulled out a sad-looking onion and a bell pepper that had seen better days.
“And your grandpa? How’s he doing?” she asked.
Rush bent again to get the eggs and add them to the ingredients on the counter.
“Pop’s good. He doesn’t complain. He’s eighty-eight.
Alzheimer’s is tough, and his heart’s not great, but he’s hanging in there.
This house got to be too much for him to keep up with a few years ago.
I see him once a week at least. The girls visit whenever they can. ”
“I’m sorry,” she murmured soberly. “That must be hard.”
“Some days are good, some bad.”
She shifted the mood back toward easier territory. “You know that thing’s supposed to be red, right?” she teased, nodding at the pepper when he finally turned around.
Rush grinned. “Color’s optional. Texture’s what matters.”
“Words to live by,” she said, watching as he pushed up the sleeves of his Henley, exposing strong, corded forearms, and started chopping. He was more efficient than graceful, but he clearly knew his way around a kitchen.