She was sitting on the couch with Beck, giving Beck a last bottle for the night, when Billy asked if she’d like a cup of tea or anything.
It was the first time they’d spoken since she’d served dinner. “I’d love a cup,” she said, as the evenings in Utah always grew cool. “As long as it’s herbal, or decaf.”
He brought her a mug of tea, the mug featuring a cowboy with the words, WORLD’S HOTTEST COWBOY, and she looked up at him, eyebrow arched. “Really?”
He smiled that slow, wicked, sexier-than-sin smile of his. “Just wanted to remind you.”
Erika laughed. She couldn’t help it. “You’re impossible.”
“Thank you.”
“Ahem. That’s not a compliment.”
He eased into his armchair. “You know, my mom always used to say the same thing.”
“About being impossible?”
“But I think she secretly liked it. I was the one who made her smile. Mom has a tendency to be serious. It gave me pleasure knowing I could get her to laugh when no one else could. Laughter’s important.”
“It is important.” Erika drew the bottle from Beck’s lips and set it down. “You are important. You want to live a long life, just like your granddad. You want to be here for Beck’s kids one day. That won’t happen if you get gored or rolled on too many times.”
“I appreciate your concern,” he answered. “I’m being sincere, too. It’s nice to know you care.”
“I’m thinking of Beck.”
“You can like me a little bit, Erika. It’s okay.”
*
Billy watched as soft pink color stained her cheeks, and she bit down into her lower lip, working it over as she did whenever she was nervous.
He wanted to be the one sucking on that lip. He wanted to feel her pressed against him. He’d wondered how she’d react if he brushed his lips across the curve of her cheek and the soft bow of her upper lip.
He’d liked the way her brow creased ever so slightly as if she didn’t quite know what to do with him. He liked the uncertainty in her eyes that always reminded him of green turquoise. She had little flecks of gold and black against the green, the gold darker than her honey hair and arched eyebrows.
There was no doubt Erika was beautiful and smart and way too good for him, but every woman needed affection and it crossed his mind that it might have been a long time since she’d been shown affection. Since she’d been thoroughly, and properly, kissed. Loved.
Maybe it was a good thing he was still so broken and sore, because it limited his ability to move, severely curtailing his seduction skills. If he was going to take her to his bed, he’d do it properly, not half-assed. She needed hours of foreplay, and that required skill, and mobility. At least he had a goal, besides getting back to work.
“I do like you,” she said crisply. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”
“I thought you were here for Beck.”
“That goes without saying. But I can care about you, too. Just because I want the best for you doesn’t mean I want to be your next buckle bunny.”
He grinned at her reference to the groupies and girls that hung around the rodeos, craving attention from the professional cowboys. “So glad we cleared that up. I might have gotten confused.”
*
Erika slept restlessly, dreaming of Billy, not sweet dreams, either, but provocative dreams of him and her, dreams where he was kissing her and driving her crazy.
She woke up feeling a little besotted.
She hated it. She hated spending so much time thinking about Billy… his body, his face, his hands, his mouth. It didn’t matter how he kissed, because she wasn’t going to kiss him. It didn’t matter if he looked hot. She wasn’t going to touch him. It didn’t matter if he’d woken her libido that had been dormant for years. She wasn’t going to get laid.
She had to focus on why she was here, and then how she was going to shift gears, when it was time to shift gears.
And maybe that was the hardest part of all, thinking about leaving.
She didn’t want to picture that day, or how it would feel to go, leaving Beck and Billy behind. Nothing inside of her found joy, or peace, in the prospect, and so she pushed it from her mind and left her bed to get her day started.
Just like yesterday, she helped Billy with his bandages and sling. Just like yesterday, she made him eggs—slightly less brown on the bottom, but this time the top layer looked weirdly wet—but he just covered it all in his Tapatio sauce and ate every bite.
Midmorning, she gave Beck another bottle and then after he fell asleep in her arms, she laid him in his travel crib and darkened the blinds and quietly shut the bedroom door. Not even five minutes later the doorbell rang, and she went to the front door and found two enormous boxes on the doorstep. She shouted a thank you to the back of the departing driver, but the driver shouted back that he had more, quite a bit more. It actually took the driver four trips in all to deliver everything to the porch, and once he was gone, Erika stared at the mountain of cardboard boxes in dismay. How on earth was all of that to get into the house… and once there, where would it go?
Billy appeared then, cell phone in hand. “Did you call me?”
“No, I was thanking the driver.” She nodded to the boxes. “Looks like it’s Christmas.”
“Oh good. Beck’s things,” he said, before lifting the phone back to his ear and saying to whomever was on the other line that he needed to go.
Once the phone was back in the front pocket of Billy’s sweatpants, Erika asked him what he’d been buying. A complete nursery?
“Pretty much,” Billy said. “This is his home. He should have his own room here, with toys and all the usual baby things.”
“When did you order this?”
“Yesterday.”
“And it’s here today?”
“Anything can be rushed.”
“That would cost a fortune.”
He didn’t seem concerned. “I have money. Why not spend it on my son?”
“True,” she agreed.
“Besides, the furniture, there should be a swing for him. A standing saucer. And hopefully a bar with dangle toys so he can lie beneath them and reach for things.”
How did he know about all these things? When had he done the research? “What didn’t you buy?”
“There were a few things I left in the shopping cart. No need to overwhelm the little guy yet.”
Her lips twitched. “You’re becoming quite the expert.”
“I can’t just watch TV all day.”
“No, you can’t. Pretty soon you’ll be schooling me.”
“I do some have thoughts, actually, but this might not be the time.” He closed the front door, blocking the view of the huge boxes. “We can talk about it later tonight—”
“Talk about what?”
“I just wondered if it was time to start him on some solid foods. He’s only five months, but he can hold his head up just fine, and he wants to eat. When I take a bite, he leans forward and opens his mouth.”
“I’d read somewhere that six months is better.”
“Either way, we’ll start with cereal, and then in a month or two introduce fruits, vegetables, yogurt. Cereal will fill him up better than just milk. He’ll probably take better naps, too, with a full belly.”