Second Chance at the Sugar Shack (12 page)

“Katherine, after you left, I realized that I suffocated you. It wasn’t fair for me to put all my hopes and dreams on your shoulders. You had a right to your own.” Her mother buried her face in her hands. “It’s just that I . . . I loved you so much.”

Kate blinked away the tears welled in her eyes. When the moisture cleared, her mother was gone.

“Mom? Mom? Come back!” she called out. “Please?” A reply never came. For the first time since Kate could remember, she did not want her mother to leave. The block wall between them had started to crumble. Kate wanted to knock it down entirely. Her mother had never said those things to her before. She had no idea her mother felt that way. No idea at all.

She sat with the car running for quite a while before she gave up and realized her mother wasn’t coming back. Kate hoped her mother’s disappearance was only a short-term thing and they could continue to work out the wrinkles in their relationship. She hoped that with all her heart.

Within minutes, Kate found herself driving toward the lake. When she’d changed the flat tire, she’d seen her old fishing pole in the trunk. The idea was absurd. She didn’t even know if she remembered how to tie her hook or cast her line. But she did remember loving the tall pines that surrounded the lake, the cry of the osprey as they glided across the sky searching for fish. She remembered the fresh scented air and the exciting tug on her line as she hooked a nice fat rainbow trout.

Most of all, she remembered the sense of calm—the sense of belonging that blanketed her when she stood on the shore and looked out over the water.

And right now, oddly enough, she needed to belong.

C
HAPTER
E
IGHT

A
s the sun sank lower in the sky and the clouds became tinted with a spray of pink and gold, Matt realized that Lacy Shaw and he were far from compatible.

Currently, she sat on the opposite end of the Adirondack style sofa he’d purchased on a recent trip to Billings. She swirled her iced tea in the tumbler he’d given her an hour ago when she’d arrived on his doorstep. Uninvited. The tray of pumpkin cookies she’d brought couldn’t make up for the fact that she was boring him out of his mind. He felt bad about that.

“I just adore sunsets, don’t you?” she asked, now twirling her finger through her shoulder-length red hair. “I mean, ever since I moved here from Nevada, I’ve been in love with sunsets. Did I ever tell you why?”

Oh no.

As she rambled on about working nights in the Desert Springs emergency room in Vegas, Matt tried to look interested. He smiled at the appropriate times. Nodded as though he was listening intently to the story she told about some heart attack victim not wanting to leave the casino until he’d finished his roll at the craps table. But all Matt was really doing was looking at her hair and thinking about a different redhead. One who, unfortunately, grabbed his interest so much he could barely get an ounce of sleep.

Lacy scooted closer to him and leaned her elbow on the back of the sofa, attempting an alluring pose with her slender figure. But Lacy didn’t have the smoky green eyes that charged his batteries. She didn’t have lips that were so luscious he just had to have a taste. And he wasn’t being fair to her by leading her to believe there could be anything more between them than friendship.

The woman beside him was smart and sweet and any man would be lucky to have her as his wife. Unfortunately nothing about her gave him any kind of a buzz. There was zero, zip, nada chemistry between the two of them. And while he might be looking for a respectable wife, he didn’t want to commit his life to someone who wouldn’t want to be a little
disrespectable
behind closed bedroom doors.

Lacy was more the flannel granny gown type.

He wanted a woman who’d use
him
to keep her warm at night.

He pulled up the sleeve of his shirt and glanced at his watch. “Darn it,” he said in his most disappointed voice. “I hate to break up our visit, Lacy, but I’ve got to run patrol tonight.”

“Oh.” She looked up at him as he rose from the sofa and held his hand out for her. “I had hoped we could get to know each other a little better.”

He sighed appropriately. “Me too. Unfortunately there’s no one else to take my shift tonight so . . .”

She smiled and nodded. “Walk me to my car?”

He did. And after he brushed her cheek with a kiss and waved as she pulled out onto the road, he looked down the sandy shoreline to the lone figure casting a line into the lake that sparkled in the evening light.

He’d noticed her the moment he’d stepped out the door. There was no mistaking the way those jeans hugged her rear end or the lightweight sweater smoothed silkily over her breasts. Or the highlights and contrast in her hair as the waning light caught it and made it look like spun fire. His spine tingled as if the feathery tips of that luscious hair were dancing across his naked skin.

Matt stood there in a wide stance, arms folded, watching her ignore him. He’d caught her glancing at him from the corner of her eye when he said good-bye to Lacy, and several more times while he stood there watching her. No doubt she was ornery. But surrounded by ancient pines and golden leafed aspens, she sure was something to look at.

A smile spread across his mouth. He’d be willing to bet Kate Silver was a woman who wore nothing to bed but sweet-scented lotion.

Suddenly her pole bent and she squealed. Her hands worked fast on the reel. She kept her tip up and pulled in the fish just the way she had when she’d been a kid—like she was hauling in Moby Dick. When the rainbow flopped on shore, Matt walked toward her.

It would be ungentlemanly of him not to help.

It would also be stupid of him to step any closer. He already knew he couldn’t get his mind off her. Knew she made his pulse race and his body harden. Knew she was one hundred percent wrong for him. Unfortunately he was getting into a really bad habit of not listening to his own good advice.

“That’s a nice one,” he said, stopping next to her as she bent down to pick up the trout.

“I know.” She looked up and grinned like a kid who’d been handed an all-day sucker. “Isn’t it awesome?” Proudly she held up the wiggling fish for him to see.

“It’s a beaut. It’ll taste great cooked on the grill.”

“You want it?” she asked, holding it toward him.

He shook his head. “Too much for me. I’ll share it though.”

“Sure.” She thrust the fish toward him. “I hope your friend will enjoy it.”

Run.
Now was his chance to thank her and escape before he dug the hole any deeper. “That’s not who I meant I’d share it with.”
Damn his uncontrollable mouth.

She glanced at their surroundings as though looking for someone else. When she realized there was no one else, she looked back at him and cocked her head. “Oh. You mean . . . you want to share it with me?”

He shrugged.

“Won’t your girlfriend mind?”

“She’s not my girlfriend.”
And why did she need to know that?

“Right. Friend with benefits then?”

Did that bother her?
“Guess you’ve been away too long to remember that’s not really possible in a town this size,” he said. “People talk.”

“Then you might as well give them something good to talk about.”

Oh, he had. A time or two or three or a thousand. But things were different now. His reputation couldn’t take a hit of any kind. It wasn’t likely he’d give Kate any ammunition against him. She’d already ruined him once before. “This isn’t California and people aren’t prone to behave the way you do in Tinsel Town.”

She studied him and her nose wrinkled just slightly. “I’m not so sure I want to share my fish with you, Deputy Ryan. You have a nasty habit of saying all the wrongs things to me.”

“Or maybe it’s the truth and you just don’t want to hear it.”

“See.” She flung her hand upward. It came down with a smack on her thigh. “There you go again.”

He drew an X over his chest. “Cross my heart I’ll do my best to refrain.”

Her smooth forehead furrowed. “Why do you want to share dinner? You don’t even like me.” She stood there, holding her trout by the line, mistrusting him one hundred percent.

So now the shoe was on the other foot.

He chuckled and took her by the elbow. “Come on, Hollywood. Let’s get that lunker on the BBQ before it shrivels up. I’ll even let you clean it.”

“Gee thanks.”

They walked side by side down the shore toward his cabin. The entire concept was bizarre. If anyone would have ever asked him if he’d be inviting Katie Silverthorne to dinner a decade after she dumped his ass, he’d have given them the number to Montana’s best psychologist.

Or maybe he should look up that number for himself.

“No tackle box?” he asked. “What’d you catch that thing on?”

“If you can’t catch ‘em on worms, you can’t catch ‘em.”

Matt laughed at the image of her digging up a slimy creature from the earth. But that image was short-lived and quickly replaced with what he’d really like her hands to be doing.

“I
swear I had no idea you lived here,” Kate said, cupping a wine glass in her hand while she leaned against the deck rail. “But I must say you’ve done a really nice job fixing up the place.” In addition to earning the trust of the community, the man had built himself a home. Was there anything he couldn’t do?

He stood beside her, the tails of his blue flannel shirt lifted with the breeze as he flipped the fish in the grilling basket. The flames sizzled and popped as the juices dripped down into the fire. Night had fallen crisp and cool. Barely a ripple marred the surface of the lake. The crickets were doing their thing, their melody accompanied by a frog quartet spaced around the perimeter of the yard. Kate took a sip of the chilled zinfandel and wished she’d brought a jacket.

“I bought the place after Old Man Anderson passed away.” He looked up and Kate caught his blue gaze in the candlelight flickering from the punched-tin lamps perched on the deck posts. “It was in shambles. Took me five years to finish.”

“Five years?” She sipped her wine again, mesmerized by the easy way he handled himself with the grill. By the way he moved—slow and sure. There was nothing sexier than a man who felt comfortable in his own skin. And looked damned good in it too.

“Yep. I pretty much gutted the whole thing,” he said. “After I added the second story and the deck, I called it good. I started out with eight hundred square feet and ended up with over two thousand.”

Kate glanced up to the second story veranda and the golden light illuminating from behind open French doors. Sheer curtains billowed with the breeze from what Kate guessed was the master bedroom. She wondered how he’d decorated it. Did he have a king-size bed topped with a cozy down comforter and fluffy pillows? Or was he the sleek modern type with a black and gray bedspread? She watched him push the halved potatoes around on the grill and imagined he’d be the former. There was a side of Matt that boasted warmth and deliciousness. While a whole different side warned her to be cautious. He was a complex man. The sturdy house he’d built reflected the fact that he could do just about anything he set his mind to. She just didn’t know what his mind was set to anymore. She raised her glass and nodded. “You did good, Deputy Ryan.”

He looked up at the house with pride and gave a short nod. “Thanks.”

She sipped her wine and before she could bite her tongue the intoxicating effects had her asking, “Have you always lived here by yourself?”

With a stainless spatula he slid the grilled trout and roasted potatoes onto plates without looking at her. But he smiled. “That’s a pretty personal question, Hollywood.”

“Just making conversation.” A task that wasn’t coming easy for either of them.

Without giving her an answer, he set the plates on a planked cedar patio table and motioned for her to sit across from him. She watched the way his muscles moved beneath his flannel shirt, the way the candlelight gleamed off his dark hair, and she realized she could watch him all day. Of course, self-preservation demanded it would be a frigid day in Tahiti before she’d let him know that information.

“Have a seat,” he said, and waited until she did before he joined her.

She set her wine glass next to her plate, stuck her fork in the meal, and closed her lips over a bite of steaming trout. The burst of lemon and butter flavor exploded across her tongue. “Mmmmmm.” She closed her eyes. “Very good. The last time I had trout was with Drew and Cameron. They–”

When she looked up, he was watching her. Intently.

“Drew and Cameron?”

“Barrymore and Diaz.”

“You always do that?” he asked.

“Do what?”

He popped a bite of potato into his mouth, chewed, and swallowed before he answered. “Name drop.”

“I don’t mean to. It’s just–”

“Your life.”

“Yes.”

“And these people are important to you.”

“Well, yes, they are my clients.”

His gaze speared her. “And these are the clients that keep you warm at night?”

Something flashed between them that made her heart race and a shiver of awareness skate through her stomach and pool between her thighs. She could only imagine exactly how warm that big body of his could keep a woman. “The salaries they pay me provide a very comfortable lifestyle. So yes, in a sense, they keep me warm.”

He leaned his forearms on the table and his dark brows drew together. “So your clients pay you to be their friend?”

“It’s not like that,” she said, trying her best not to sound defensive. “There are dozens of different kinds of friendships. There are those you call to commiserate with, those you meet up with just to chat, and those you meet to chat with and talk business.”

“What about those who are there to hold your hand when you’re scared? Or bring you soup when you’re sick? Or call just to tell you they’re glad to hear your voice?”

She lifted her glass. “Touché.”

“Sorry,” he said. “I’m really not trying to push you into a corner.”

“Then what
are
you trying to do?”

“Your life is so different. I’m just trying to figure it all out.”

“Wow. That surprises me.”

One broad shoulder lifted in a shrug. “So how’d you make it all happen? Your career, I mean.”

Kate sipped her wine and watched him over the glass rim. No sarcastic grin curved his mouth. He looked to be genuinely interested. “School of hard knocks. At first I thought all I had to do was finish my degree and I’d walk into this glamorous life where all the stars would be breaking down the door to hire me.” She laughed. “Talk about a backwoods babe in the concrete jungle.”

He drank from his Sam Adams, lowered the amber bottle then sucked a drop from the beautiful curve of his top lip. “But you made it work.”

“Yeah, I did. After I learned the basics, I developed my own style. Which apparently had been struggling to get out of me for years.”

He gave her a knowing smile. “I do remember you had a very different fashion sense than most of the girls at Deer Lick High.”

“Ah, yes, my Daisy Dukes, crop top, and hoodie days.”

“You wore them well.”

“All that skin showing? I gave my mother nightmares.”

“I didn’t mind.”

His deep chuckle gave her an odd sense of comfort. One she wasn’t quite sure she should explore.

He leaned forward. “Tell me more.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, how did you go from
backwoods babe
to a Hollywood success?”

“Mostly I chatted up anyone who may have had a contact in the industry and I got my name out there. After a few years I finally got a call from a stylist who needed an assistant.” She sipped her wine. “The best day ever was when I threw away my apron and quit my waitressing job.”