Rush finally looked at her, gray eyes as cool as stone. “It’s just a house, Lily.”
But she knew better.
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 neatlystacked 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, Lilyglanced 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.
