Chapter 10
ten
Chance wasn’t exactly regretting letting Cordy move into his place, but the doubts were creeping in. And she’d only just arrived this morning.
Finding the electric kettle on his countertop was the first trigger. At least, Chance assumed the thing was a kettle, with its vague teapot shape. Otherwise, he had no idea what it did. He wasn’t one to buy a lot of kitchen gadgets. He hardly ever used the kitchen, preferring to grill most of his meals. Easier to clean up.
They’d moved her things into his house in only a few hours—she wasn’t one to collect a lot of crap. He’d felt like she ought to have more, that there wasn’t enough in her house to keep a person comfortable. But it wasn’t his place to say.
Once the boxes and furniture were inside, his brothers and Ruby had taken off. Chance didn’t know what Ruby and Cordy had been whispering about. He prayed Ruby had stuck to gossip about Glenn and Justin and not gotten into messy Kessal family history. Cordy hadn’t run away screaming, so probably not.
Ruby likely hadn’t said anything about Hailey or the Saxons either because she and Cordy had been cozy the whole time. If Ruby had given Cordy an earful of complaints straight from Hailey, Cordy wouldn’t have stood for it.
If Chance had to guess based on their farewell hug, Cordy and Ruby were now friends. Good friends. Imagine that.
Cordy had unpacked her boxes with an efficiency that scared him. She hadn’t been lying—she was a pro at moving. She could pack up and be out as easy as she’d come in.
This morning, the house had been entirely Chance’s own. Four hours later, Cordy had made herself at home.
He told himself that was good as he stared at the kettle. He wanted her to be comfortable and safe. Except that his instinct for self-preservation screamed at him to get her out of there.
There was a woman in his space. Chance had never even had a woman stay the night, much less move in. This is bad, said a nasty inner voice. This is how you end up like all the other Kessal men, too damn in love to save yourself.
He left the kitchen and blindly walked into the living room. The second trigger was a pretty paisley throw blanket Cordy had draped over his plain gray couch. She must have picked that up on her travels.
It was sitting on his furniture like it had come home.
Chance forced himself to breathe. It was pretty, yes, and it looked softer than goose down, and the couch needed something more… but he would not get attached to that blanket. It wasn’t sticking around.
He flexed his fingers. It was fine. He’d be fine.
“You need anything?” he called down the hall to Cordy’s room.
While they’d been moving her stuff, the two of them had been very careful to only talk about logistics and not meet each other’s eyes. Having his brothers around had helped with the awkwardness.
Now, there was no avoiding it… or her. They were living together.
“I’m okay.” She came out with a rag in her hand. Her pretty auburn hair was caught up in a scarf, and she looked too damn good for words.
He came to the awful realization that a pregnant Cordelia Johnson in dingy cutoffs and a tattered tank top, with a smear of dust under her cheek, looked more enticing than any woman Chance had ever seen.
That was trigger number three. It split him right apart.
“I’ll go start dinner,” he said, backing out of the room. He almost tripped over his own damn feet, he went so fast.
They hadn’t discussed how they would divide food, but Chance knew he couldn’t have her in his house and not feed her. This way, he could be busy cooking and not looking at her. Grilling would settle his mind.
When he stepped out onto his back porch, there was the final trigger—the baby’s crib, all boxed up. Right where he’d left it.
Sweat broke out on his forehead. Christ, he’d not only invited a woman to live with him, they were about to turn into a ready-made family in a few weeks.
His first impulse was to get into his truck and drive to the Red Dog. He was so shook up the Swing Inn wouldn’t do. He needed something rawer.
But Chance was stuck here, needing to feed Cordy and the baby, even though he also needed to get the hell away.
He made himself breathe. All he had to do was light the coals. Set up the chimney starter, get the fire going. He’d done it a million times. He could do it in his sleep.
He didn’t move.
Her noodle dog watched Chance from a corner of the porch. The dog had done a few circuits of the house, sniffed around outside, then set his butt down in that corner and hadn’t moved since. Chance almost admired how lazy the dog was—right now, Iggy only had one eye open. Apparently, opening both would require too much effort.
There was a dog in his house, too. His muscles locked up all over again. Woman, baby, dog—all the things Chance had never wanted to have. And they’d arrived in one short afternoon.
The sliding door opened with a soft whoosh.
“You don’t need to make dinner for me.” Cordy’s voice was quiet but as twisted up as Chance was feeling. “This isn’t…”
When she didn’t go on, he turned to look at her. She was still in her cutoffs and tank, a sliver of belly peeking out between her hem and waistband. The smudge was wiped off her cheek, and the scarf was gone.
She still made his blood pound.
Cordy lifted one shoulder in a weak shrug. “We’re roommates. No need to make it more than it is.”
She was giving him an out. Chance ought to grab it with both hands.
But he couldn’t shake this notion that she needed to eat. It was deeper than an urge, almost like an instinct. Not feeding her would be like holding his breath until he passed out—impossible.
He shrugged, too. “It’s easier to cook for two instead of one. Anything you can’t eat?”
Cordy rolled her eyes. “Sometimes it feels like every food is dangerous. No deli meat, soft cheese, sushi, no tuna ever, no raw eggs or anything with raw eggs, no sprouts, no unwashed veggies, no raw juices, and my meat has to be well done. Oh.” She lifted a finger as she remembered one last thing. “No caffeine.”
Chance could only stare at her. “That… Do you have anything left to live for, giving up all that?”
She patted her belly. “Yup.”
Right. Her life must have turned completely upside down once she saw the positive pregnancy test. Giving up coffee would have been easy compared to everything else.
Still, he planned to give her the biggest, fanciest coffee the Donut Palace offered the moment the baby was out.
“Well, I won’t ever do raw fish for dinner,” he said. “So we’re safe there. But what the hell is raw juice? You can cook juice?”
“I don’t know.” Laughter shone in her voice. “I just remember reading raw juice on one of those do-not-eat lists, and it stuck with me.”
“Okay, I’ll make sure all your juices are cooked, then.”
“Oh, and I am allergic to tree nuts. I had to tell Ruby that for the meal train.”
He paused with the lighter next to the chimney starter. “There’s no train around here.”
“That was my first thought. Apparently, people sign up to bring you food after the baby is born. Ruby said she would arrange it.”
“That’s great,” he said. “People should help you.”
“I’ll share with you, don’t worry. There will be way too much for just me.”
That made Chance feel odd all over again. People didn’t need to bring him food—it wasn’t his baby.
He focused on the barbecue, waiting for the coals to light and then burn down some. Once it was ready, he put on corn and the steaks. Cordy watched him with half-closed eyes, not saying much. She looked tired.
When Chance put her plate in front of her, she sat up and smiled her thanks. He waited for her to start, the knot in his chest easing as she took the first bite.
“I like the stuff you brought.” He gestured toward the living room. “The pillows and the blanket. Where did you get those?”
“You do?” Her smile was surprised. “I got the pillow in Morocco. And the blanket in Italy. My parents always warned me not to collect stuff—it was only crap to carry, they said, and you wanted as little of that as possible. Take memories, not things, you know…” Cordy shrugged like that kind of nonsense was common knowledge.
Her parents would have hated the main house where Chance grew up. It was filled with “crap” left by pretty much every Kessal who’d passed through. Not that anyone would pack it up anytime soon, but if they did, they’d have a hell of a job ahead of them.
He wouldn’t say any of that because she was already tender about how she grew up. “I’m glad you kept them,” he said, “even if they were a pain to pack.” He cut into his steak. “You told Ruby you wanted stories about Reed.” He pointed to her belly. “For the baby. I’ve got some.”
“You knew each other? Reed never said anything.”
“Everyone around here knows everyone else. You ask anyone, they’ll have stories about him.”
“Really? Everyone?”
“Yep. At least one story, I’ll bet you anything.”
“I’ll have to try that,” she said, “next time I’m in town.”
“Third Thursday is next week. You could start there.”
“I haven’t been to one of those since… since Reed died.”
“Why not? Seems like something you’d like.”
“I didn’t want to run into Reed’s family,” she said quietly.
Her expression made him want to start a new feud with the Saxons, one just as poisoned as the Kessal-Buckland feud.
Chance cleared his throat and tried to sound like he was calm. “Janet doted on him. Too much, maybe. Janet is pissed that he’s gone, and she’s taking it out on you.”
Cordy blew out a long breath. “That’s what Ruby said. But…” She shook her head. “But it’s not for me to say.”
“Sure it is. There’s only me to listen, and I won’t blab. You say whatever you want, and it’ll always be between you and me.”
Her smile was wry. “You don’t kiss and tell.”
That made Chance feel guilty for no reason he could see. No, he didn’t go talking about any woman, even if he hadn’t slept with her. It was simple manners. And a good way to keep him clear of any drama.
He took a bite of steak. “So. Unload on me about the Saxons. And we’ll go to Third Thursday next week. You’re gonna have a great time and not feel bad.”
Cordy picked at her steak. “I just want them to reply to my updates. Even a like on my message would be enough.”
Christ, this woman didn’t ask for nearly enough from them. A feud was looking mighty good about now.
“How big is the baby?” he asked. He measured her belly with his eyes. “I’d say about a basketball.”
“No, it only feels like that. It’s the size of a honeydew melon.”
Chance measured out what a melon should be with his hands and frowned. “That’s too small. Way too small.”
Cordy laughed. “I agree, but that’s the size the baby’s supposed to be.”
Chance gestured with his fork. “Okay, come on, more unloading. You’ve got a sympathetic ear here.”
She gave a little shrug. “I’m not one to hold grudges. I wish Reed were here too, as much as the Saxons do. I hate making Janet burst into tears every time she sees me. I want this baby to know their family, and they’re making it impossible.”
Chance raised an eyebrow. “That’s it? That’s all you want to get out?”
He made it joking, but deep down, he was angry at how not angry she was. Life had given her a shit hand here, and the Saxons were only making it worse. Cordy could at least cuss them out some. Anyone else would.
“I told you, I don’t hold grudges.”
“I do. I can hold one for you if you want.”
“I don’t want to say anything I’ll regret if they come around. Which they will.” Cordy punctuated that with a stab of her fork. “Can you tell me some stories about Reed?”
The moment she asked for them, Chance’s mind went blank. “Hmm. Let me think…” Chance scratched his chin. “Actually, in elementary school, he licked a frog.”
“ What? Why?”
“Someone—I can’t remember who—said that if you licked a toad, you’d hallucinate. Ramona Buckland said that wasn’t true. She’s got this way of telling you something is wrong that makes you feel pretty dumb. Pisses my brother Bowie off no end. Anyway, Reed got his back up and said it was true, and he’d prove it.”
Cordy covered her face. “Oh no.”
“I’ll give this to Ramona; she caught the frog herself. Shoved it right under Reed’s nose and told him to open up.”
Cordy giggled. “So he really licked it?”
“He did.”
She shuddered. “Ew. What happened then?”
“He threw up. I guess the frog tasted so nasty, it triggered his gag reflex.”
“Oh no,” Cordy moaned. “Oh God.”
“Ramona dropped the frog. It hopped away, right through the puddle of sick.”
Cordy made a noise halfway between a groan and a laugh. “Poor frog! And poor Reed.”
“He was brave,” Chance said. “He stepped up, even if it didn’t turn out like he thought. And he got to go home for the rest of the day.”
“Yeah.” Cordy’s expression had softened. “He was never one to sit back and wait. He asked me out the second day we met, even though I was working. I told him I didn’t date customers. So he promised to meet me at the Donut Palace the next morning and try again.”
She looked down, a small smile curving her mouth, lost in memory. Chance wanted to ask her then if she had loved Reed, even though his stomach twisted sourly at the thought. Cordy could love who she wanted; it wasn’t Chance’s business. He hated the sadness in her expression, though.
“When I went into the Donut Palace the next morning,” Cordy said, “there Reed was. Liberty told me he’d been there since they opened. He didn’t want to miss me.”
Chance could hardly believe it. Reed sounded like he was completely smitten. Reed had never struck Chance as the type to fall that hard. But now that Chance was getting to know Cordy better, it made sense. Look at what Chance was doing for her against his own deep-seated nature.
“So you told him yes,” Chance said.
“I did. Honestly, I was impressed he was so determined. We had a good time on our date—we went to the Filler Up—so we went out again. And again. It developed into this casual thing we were both enjoying.” She rubbed her belly. “The baby probably won’t like that story. She’ll want something more romantic.”
“My parents had romantic,” Chance said bitterly. “Still didn’t end well.”
When Cordy’s head snapped up, Chance realized his mistake. He never talked about his parents. Even bringing it up with his brothers was tricky, and they’d been there for the whole thing.
So he changed the subject. “I’ll put together the crib for you tomorrow,” he promised.
“No, I’ll do it.” Her tone was pleasant, but her jaw was set.
“Cordelia.”
“Chance. I can build the crib.”
“I know you can. But you’re going to let me do it.” He’d meet her stubborn with some of his own.
She raised an eyebrow. “Is this some kind of macho thing?”
“No. I’m secure in my masculinity. Which is why I’m putting together the crib for you.”
Her mouth twitched. “Fine, I’ll let you do it.”
“Do you want to paint the room too or something?”
“No, please, don’t do any painting,” she said. “You’ve already done too much.”
Cordy got up and stretched, revealing even more of her stomach. Chance forced himself to look away. His heart kicked hard against his ribs all the same.
“I’ll clean up,” she said, “and then I need to get to bed. Thanks for dinner. It was great.”
“You’re not cleaning up,” Chance said, harsher than he meant to. The image of her bare skin was imprinted on his eyes. “I’ll handle it.”
“But you cooked.”
“Go to bed.”
Cordy bit her lip, which turned his gut into one massive, twisting ache. If she didn’t get out of here…
Thankfully, she disappeared into the house without a word.
That left Chance alone on the darkening porch as he reminded himself of all his rules about women and exactly why he had them.
Cordy yawned as she reached for her toothbrush, feeling dead on her feet. Even with all the help she’d had, moving was still exhausting.
And yet she was keyed up, too. There was always something exciting, invigorating about a new place. She wanted to explore more, see every nook and cranny, then head outside and take a long ramble through the woods and the pastures she had seen. Too bad it was already dark.
The guest bathroom in Chance’s house was nice but a little bland. Cordy was tempted to make it feel less like a hotel bathroom, but that was probably a bad idea. She shouldn’t let herself get too settled here.
She rummaged through the toiletry bag she’d packed, looking for her toothpaste. When she got to the bottom, she realized it wasn’t there.
“Crap,” she muttered. “How did that not get put in this bag?”
A search of the cabinet drawers didn’t turn up any either. Cordy was going to have to ask Chance for some. The sounds in the kitchen had stopped some time ago, so he must be done cleaning up. But she wasn’t sure where he was now.
She’d never expected him to make her dinner. Cordy had thought this would be the usual roommate agreement—they’d be friendly but not in each other’s pocket.
Chance kept surprising the heck out of her.
The living room was dark, the hardwood floor cool under her bare feet. It amazed her that Chance had built this all himself. He’d told her it had taken three years to finish, even with his brothers’ help. He’d made it sound like building an entire house was no big deal. She couldn’t tell if he thought it wasn’t that impressive or was trying to be humble.
Iggy was sprawled on the couch, his back wedged under one cushion and his paws hanging off the edge. The dog had made himself right at home—he’d napped all over the house today. Cordy gave him a scratch behind the ears, and he snuffled in his sleep.
The door to Chance’s bedroom was shut. A sliver of light peeped out from under it.
Cordy hesitated with her hand on Iggy’s head. Maybe she ought to leave Chance alone. As long as her day had been, his had been even longer. And she didn’t want him to feel like he had to do things for her like make dinner, build the crib, or paint a bedroom.
Iggy shifted and licked her hand. Then he shoved his head under her palm, asking for more love. That was all Iggy wanted out of life: love from Cordy and comfortable sleeping spots.
She ought to be like her dog. She had Iggy and a place to stay—she ought to be happy. Except when she looked at Chance tonight… something felt empty inside. She kept wanting to reach out and touch him to make it better.
That was dangerous. Cordy’s relationships weren’t about need. She enjoyed being with others, had fun with them, but ultimately, she could walk away just fine.
And then the baby had come.
You have more people rooting for you than you know. Ruby’s words still felt strange. People didn’t root for Cordy. She was a friendly ear when they were drinking, a fun time when a man wanted one. She was light, happy, and always ready to move on, like her parents taught her.
“I don’t know,” she told Iggy, and she meant it about so many things.
“Cordy?”
She jumped when Chance called her name from his room. Crap, he’d heard her.
The door opened. Chance walked out, wearing only a low-slung pair of sweatpants. His chest was broad, dusted with hair, and he had those grooves in his hips that drove a woman crazy.
Her mouth went dry.
“You okay?” Chance asked in a soft, deep voice. “You need anything?”
Cordy prided herself on never needing anything, but she needed to touch his bare skin. To run her hands over the ridges of muscles, then follow that with her tongue.
“Toothpaste,” she said, knowing she was staring. Christ, she might even be drooling.
“Toothpaste?” Chance scrubbed a hand through his hair, making his biceps pop and his pecs flex.
Cordy’s pulse went wild. She tried to calm down by reminding herself she had her vibrator in her room and could take that image of his gorgeous body back with her.
But her vibrator wouldn’t talk dirty to her, and she’d bet her life savings that Chance would. And he’d be good at it.
“Yeah.” Was her tongue hanging out of her mouth? She felt like it was. Her eyes must be dinner plates, eating him up.
“Sorry.” He grimaced as he gestured to his bare chest. “Should have pulled on a shirt. I thought this would be okay. I usually sleep naked.”
Cordy whimpered.
Chance went very still.
Oh boy. Well, there was no explaining away that noise as anything but raw want. She wet her lips and found herself talking. “It’s the pregnancy,” she said. “It makes me…” She huffed out a laugh. “Horny. Really horny.”
She could have said it wasn’t personal, that a washing machine spin cycle could have done it, but that wouldn’t be true.
Chance didn’t laugh. “Cordelia.” His tone was gravelly.
“It’s not anything I can’t handle. I won’t jump you or anything.” The words tumbled out of her mouth. “I mean, if you were going to make a move with me, you would have. You’re clearly not shy. And it would be awful, us sleeping together while we’re living together.” She laughed again, wildly. “You’re allergic to that stuff.”
“Cordelia.” He made her name a growl. “Stop it.”
And to prove his point, he came over and put his hand over her mouth.
Cordy stared at him wide-eyed.
“Let’s get one thing straight,” he said. “I wanted you from the moment I first saw you. But I knew better than to bring you into my mess.”
He’d wanted her all this time?
“What mess?” she tried to ask, but Chance wouldn’t lift his hand.
“I want you . Wanted you since I first saw you and even more since you’ve been pregnant.” He ran his hand down her bump and possessively cupped it.
Her nipples peaked against her thin shirt. Her lungs were working overtime. Her entire body throbbed and hummed.
Chance’s gaze locked onto hers. “But all I can offer you is a place to stay.”
That did it. Cordy pulled his hand away. “Bullshit. You’ve done a hell of a lot more for me than just giving me a place to stay. And I have to confess something too—I was jealous.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Of what?”
“All those women who got one night with you. I was jealous of them.”
She’d suppressed it as best she could, never admitting it even to herself, but it was true. Cordy wanted to know what she was missing. She resented that she’d never get the chance.
“You deserve better than what I can give you,” he said. “Don’t wish for that.”
Anger flared within her lust. “Don’t patronize me. I know what I want. And I know how good you are. Word gets around in a town like this.”
Cordy stepped forward, her hand still locked around his wrist. She pulled his arm toward her until it curved around her back. “Don’t treat me like an idiot. Like I’m too fragile.”
“You’re not fragile,” he whispered, his mouth half an inch from hers. “You’re the strongest person I know.” He cupped her cheek with his free hand. “This is going to complicate things.”
Surrender softened his tone. He canted over her, a solid, dark weight in the gray light.
“If it’s too much,” she said, “tell me. I’ll go back to bed right now, and we’ll forget this ever happened.”
He groaned. “Too much? You’ve been too much for me from day one.” His mouth brushed over hers. The contact was a sizzling shock and not nearly enough. “I’m trying to be noble here.”
Chance Kessal being noble? She finally got up the nerve to confess she wanted him and that was when he decided to grow a conscience?
“What do you think I’ve been doing for months?” she asked. “Watching what I say and do, taking all the classes, never putting a foot wrong, and still worrying it wasn’t enough?”
His thumb brushed over her jaw, slow, comforting. “Oh, darling, I know. I know. I’ve seen.”
That made her knees tremble. She thought she’d been so alone, struggling in the shadows, but it wasn’t true.
She tilted her face toward his, asking again for what she needed. What she knew he could give her, give her so good, better than anyone.
He kissed her, drugging, deep. She arched into him, begging for him to touch her where she ached. He’d helped her with so much, couldn’t he help with this?
“Cordy.” He pulled his arm free of her grip. “You’re killing me.” But he settled his hand at her hip instead, digging in deep.
“Good,” she said against his mouth. “Please. I need you.”
If it was a bad idea—and it was —she didn’t care anymore. Now that she’d released her hold on her control, there was no pulling back. There was only him and her and the fire between them.
“You don’t. I’m no good for you,” he said even as his fingers tracked over the swell of her hip, traced the crease of her thigh, then slipped between her legs.
She jerked like a puppet when he stroked her folds through her underwear. Her flesh was already so sensitized, it was almost too much.
“You’re wet.” Chance sounded like that was the most amazing thing he’d ever felt. “So wet.”
His palm cupped her jaw, that tender touch a sizzling contrast to the wicked flex of his other hand on her pussy. The ache in her clit swelled with each pulse of sensation, rising and rising without end.
“Please, keep going. Don’t stop,” she muttered, flexing into his hand. Into the wicked stroke of his thick fingers. Just a bit more, and she would be there. It was close, heat and pressure building in her core and lower back, her thighs starting to tremble. “You’re so good at this.”
Chance stiffened. Then he pulled away and fisted his hands at his sides.
Cordy bit back her protest. She shivered, even though her skin still burned. She wanted him back, wanted him to push her over the edge like she knew he could. Like she needed. But she didn’t know how to get him back.
“I can’t do this.” He covered his eyes like the sight of her was too much. “Do you have a vibrator?”
“What? Yes, but?—”
“Then use it and not me.”
Cordy watched, speechless and aching, as he closed his bedroom door behind him with a soft snick.
The jerk hadn’t given her an orgasm. He hadn’t even given her the damn toothpaste.