“I don’t know him, really. They came up when I had a show in Montesano last year. He seemed nice enough. He’s younger, of course, but he loves her.” She shrugged. “I think.”
“What about you?” he asked. “Learned any skills you never thought you’d learn?”
“Where do I start?” She sighed. “Changing a tire and my oil—it’s cheaper than having everything serviced. Once a mechanic finds out you’re a single woman, they see dollar signs. Minor plumbing repairs and electrical repairs.”
“Cooking, too?”
She smiled up at him. “Cooking for one is boring.”
He frowned. “Why one?”
She swallowed. “I was almost engaged. But I just couldn’t do it.”
“What did he do?” His voice was gruff, angry.
“He didn’t do a thing. He was a really nice guy. He still is a really nice guy.”
“You’re still involved?”
“If I was, this wouldn’t have happened.” She shot him a look. “He’d like to be, but nothing’s changed.”
“Then what happened?”
She sat up, reaching for her glass of water. She didn’t know what to say, exactly. “It’s me. I’m not wired that way. The marrying way, I mean. If I was, Wes would be a good husband. He’s this sweet, supportive, funny guy who loves me. But I didn’t love him that way.” She swirled her water glass, staring into the fire. She didn’t really want to talk about Wes... She didn?
??t know how long they’d have time like this together. She glanced at Hunter to find him watching her.
Hunter took the glass from her. “You’re too hard on yourself, Jo.”
She frowned. She wasn’t hard on herself—she just accepted her limitations. Not that looking at Hunter, all ruffled and manly, didn’t make her wish she was another kind of woman. A true-blue veterinarian cowboy’s wife type of woman...
He lowered his head, his mouth latching on to hers with a passion that startled her. His hand slipped under the edge of her shirt, gripping her hip. When his tongue traced the seam of her lips, she inched closer. Not close enough. She loved his soft groan, the hitch in his breath, as she straddled him.
“Still hungry?” she asked, nipping his bottom lip.
“Yes, ma’am,” he rasped. “For dessert.”
Chapter Eleven
Morning sunlight spilled into the bedroom, waking Josie with a start. She lay there, staring at the aged wood beams running across the ceiling. She was here, really here. And Hunter was snoring softly beside her. She grinned, turning her head on the down-filled pillow. His features were peaceful when he slept. She stared at him, torn. She wanted to stay. She wanted to run her fingers over the stubble on his chin. She wanted to wake him up and make love to him again. She wanted to talk about possibilities. And that terrified her.
Nothing had been said last night because she’d told him not to say anything. Doubt reared its ugly head.
Maybe nothing had been said because neither of them wanted to go there.
Yes, they were attracted to each other. They had a history and they liked each other. But a future for them couldn’t be that easy. She and Hunter had a complicated relationship. Another thing her mother had warned her away from: complications. Complications led to distractions, which led to disinterest, and being left.
So words like possibilities and relationships shouldn’t come into play, for both their sakes. Instead, last night was...the best mistake of her life. An amazing, magical, earth-shattering, mind-blowing mistake. She needed to end this now before she let her stupid heart convince her otherwise.
They weren’t kids anymore. Other people would get hurt—like Eli. Eli, who might be home at any minute.
She lay there a second longer, memorizing everything about Hunter. She couldn’t let him in. She couldn’t love him. Her hand hovered over his cheek, itching to touch him.
The cold, hard truth was too big to ignore. It was too late. She did love him—she always had. The trick would be leaving without making things even more complicated than they already were. He could never know how she felt and she needed to get a grip on her out-of-control libido.
First step: getting out of his bed. She slipped from the bed, then spent a good ten minutes finding her clothes. No matter how hard she searched, one sock was missing. She dressed as quietly as possible, tugged her hair into a sloppy ponytail and eased from his bedroom.
She made it to the front door when his growl of a question made her jump. “Where are you going?” He was all sleep-rumpled, bleary-eyed and shirtless.