Normal, familiar sounds.
She proceeded with caution.The cabin was empty, but she felt Paul’s presence like a ghost as she continued to the bedroom.The sheets she’d never changed had been stripped from the bed, along with the pillowcases and blanket.She wouldn’t be able to press her face to the fabric and smell his scent again.The ceiling fan stirred the air in the deserted space, punctuating its emptiness.Her laptop cord was in the nightstand, where she’d left it.She tucked it into her bag and exited the room without a backward glance.
The clothes she’d forgotten were folded in a neat stack on the surface of the dryer.She reached out to touch the lacy panties on top of the pile.She imagined Paul’s callused hands on the fabric, his haunted eyes and the hard lines of his face.
Ridiculous.
Instead of dwelling on this pathetic fantasy, she grabbed the clothes and moved on to the kitchen.She collected a few pantry items, including the lemonade mix, though the sight of it made her eyes burn.
Ugh.This damned Texas heat.
Time to go.She strode outside with her arms full.Paul was standing beside his truck.He appeared to be packing up, like her.His gaze settled on her for a fraction of a second.Then he continued about his business, as if she wasn’t there.
She put her belongings in her car, trying to match his aloofness.
Unfortunately, she still had the key to the cabin.She could leave it under the mat, or just be an adult and hand it to him.He was ten steps away, looking long and lean in his denim jeans.A faded T-shirt stretched across his broad shoulders.His cowboy hat was pulled low on his forehead, partially obscuring his face.
She snatched the key from her purse and strode forward.He didn’t intimidate her.He never had.He was tall and fit and ruggedly handsome—big deal.He always smelled good, too.So what?She steeled herself for the one-two punch of his close proximity.He turned toward her as she approached.
“Here’s the key,” she said.
“I don’t need it.”
“I’m not coming back.”
“Neither am I.”
“You’re using the dryer, aren’t you?You can lock up.”
He sighed and held out his palm.She marveled at the irony of the exchange.After fighting tooth and nail over this summer rental, now they couldn’t wait to get rid of it.They were leaving it uninhabited during the peak season.
“Thanks for folding my laundry,” she said.
“My pleasure.”
“Was it?”
“Nope.”
The wry honesty of his statement cut through the tension between them.She imagined him folding her panties, hating her and wanting her the same way she hated and wanted him.Maybe even loving her, the way she loved him.
Vanessa froze at the disturbing thought.
She couldn’t actuallylovehim, could she?
Suddenly, the man standing before her wasn’t the jerk who’d betrayed her.He was the carpenter who’d built her daughter a lemonade stand.He was the conscientious date who’d insisted on sobering her up before he took her to bed.He was the generous lover who’d made her laugh and brought her to the throes of ecstasy.
Paul wasn’t perfect, and he hadn’t been honest with her, but he wasn’t Bennett.The two men weren’t remotely alike.Paul had shown Emily more care and attention in the past two weeks than her biological father had in four years.He’d had tears in his eyes when he’d hugged her goodbye.For a man with the emotional range of an ice block, the moment had been telling.He was clearly affected by their breakup.
Washein love withher?This idea was even more alarming than the possibility that she was in love with him.Vanessa tried to dismiss the notion before it could take root in her mind, or grow like wildfire inside her fast-beating heart.She’d think about the possibility later, when she didn’t feel so vulnerable.She’d savor it, along with the memory of his hands on her body.The perfect sensation of his weight on top of her.
Instead of moving away, she stepped closer to him.Saying a terse goodbye might be his style, but it wasn’t hers.She wasn’t too angry to touch him, or too jaded to show affection.Their affair had meant something to her, and they might never see each other again.It was okay to feel sad about the end of their summer fling.She didn’t have to leave with a bitter taste in her mouth.So she stood up on tiptoe and wrapped her arms around his neck.
He tensed at the contact, as if her nearness pained him, but he didn’t pull away, not even when she touched her lips to his hard cheek.He was deceptively placid, like the glassy surface of the lake on a still morning.Even so, she felt the undercurrents.
She pressed her nose to his neck to savor his heated-male scent, and watched the pulse jump at the base of his throat.
Paul turned his head to the side, as if attempting to avoid smelling her, or looking at her, or enjoying the press of her body.He ruined this show of restraint by asking a single question: “How long can you stay?”
