He liked DIY programs and learning how to build things and just last night she asked if he’d ever built anything and he’d nodded, gesturing to the space they were in. “This,” he’d said.
“This cabin?” she’d asked.
“I hired a builder, but I worked alongside him. Every moment when I wasn’t competing, I was here.”
“It must have saved you a lot of money.”
“It would have, if I’d stopped upgrading everything.” He smiled. “But I enjoyed being part of the build. It was really satisfying.”
“And the barn? Same builder?”
“No. I did that, with Tommy, after the house was completed. You’ll notice it’s pretty basic in comparison.”
But the barn wasn’t basic, and Billy’s skills weren’t basic, but he was so modest, never wanting compliments, uncomfortable being fussed over. Was it being the third son that had made him uncomfortable being praised, or was he not praised very often growing up?
He’d told her he’d been dyslexic, he’d said he’d struggled in school, he’d clearly resented being made to feel as if he wasn’t bright enough. Good enough. It stirred her sympathy because he was just the opposite—bright, hardworking, nonjudgmental of others.
A truly good person.
Last night, as they finished watching the TV show, she’d snuck glances at him, taking in the big shoulders, his broad chest, and that beautiful face of his. Just looking at him made her insides feel fluttery. So fluttery.
She was head over heels. Nothing good could come of this. But it was too late to turn back, too late to save herself. She was already in way too deep.
*
After dinner that evening, Billy watched Erika give Beck a bath in the kitchen sink. The sleeves on her red sweater were pushed up to her elbows, her long blonde hair high in a ponytail on the top of her head. She had bubbles on one forearm, and a small cluster of bubbles on her chin. She was happy, laughing, as Beck vigorously splashed bath water. The more she laughed, the harder Beck splashed, sending water and suds everywhere.
She looked like she could be Beck’s mom. They were both fair, they both had light eyes, they both laughed with the same joy.
Beck seemed to think she was his mom. He lit up every time she entered the room. And thanks to Erika’s attention, Beck was becoming a very contented baby. He gurgled and cooed, and made babbling noises as he waved his hands.
But then, how could anyone be unhappy around Erika? Lately, she was full of sunshine and light, confidence and optimism.
He felt protective of her. He loved it when she laughed, loved making her laugh, and he tried to make her laugh as much as he could.
He rose from his chair and stepped into the kitchen. “I’m thinking of going home for Mother’s Day. Do you want to go with us?”
She reached for a washcloth and wiped bubbles from her eyelashes. “Is that a good idea?” she asked.
“Why wouldn’t it be?”
“Just don’t want to give your family the wrong idea about us.”
He frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I just think if I show up with you, they’re going to think it’s odd that I’m still hanging around two months later.”
“They know you’re here. They know you’re the one taking care of Beck since I was hurt.”
“Yes, but it’s one thing for me to be here, and another in your family’s home. I don’t want your mom or granddad to think we have a relationship when we don’t. It doesn’t seem fair to give them ideas.”
“That won’t happen. They know me.”
Her expression flickered, her smile slipping before she managed to save it. “Well, that’s a relief.” She turned away from him and pushed up her sleeves higher on her elbows before picking up a towel and reaching for Beck. “Okay, Stormtrooper, we’re getting out.”
Was it his imagination or had she dismissed him? “Need a hand?” Billy asked.
She didn’t even look at him. “Nope. I’ve got it. Go back to your show. I’m good here.”
And she was good, he thought. She was more than good, and she’d carried more than her fair share of the weight around here. She’d managed Beck, managed the house, had even managed him.
Now she was managing to do without him.
He didn’t like it.
He liked doing things together, being together, being partners with her. He wasn’t a fan of being told to go, leave. He didn’t like feeling shut out in his own house.
She was angry with him, and it had to do with his visit to Paradise Valley, as well as other things, things they didn’t discuss. Like the tension simmering between them, a sexual tension he’d never felt with anyone else.
They’d spent weeks together in this cabin without a kiss, weeks where they’d tripped over each other, and avoided each other, weeks where the chemistry crackled and burned.
Billy was done tiptoeing around the attraction, pretending it didn’t exist. He was done tiptoeing around Erika, not wanting to offend her with his constant desire. He wouldn’t apologize for being attracted to her, and he wouldn’t apologize for wanting her.
Because he did want her, he dreamed of taking her to his bed, night after night. He wanted to touch her and feel her. Wanted her mouth and her tongue and her body, every bit he could have, every bit he could touch and taste.
After putting Beck to bed, she returned to the kitchen to rinse out the sink and put the baby shampoo and bath toys away. He’d already done it, though, and when she looked down into the empty, clean sink she then turned toward him, surprised. “Thank you,” she said. “That was nice of you.”
He’d left his chair and was standing on the far side of the kitchen island. “Nice that I’d take care of my son?”
Her chin lifted, and he didn’t know if she was responding to his words or tone. “I only meant that it was nice to have your help. I appreciate it.”
“I try to help.”
“I have never said you don’t.” Her gaze met his, expression fierce. “You’re picking a fight.”
“You started it.”
“I did?” She laughed, even as her hands went to her hips, drawing his eye to her waist, her breasts, her legs. “I don’t think so. I wasn’t the one who suggested dragging me to Montana as if I was the nanny.”
“That’s not how I invited you.”
“But it’s the role I play. Beck’s caregiver. Beck’s cousin. Beck’s special buddy.”
“You’re being ridiculous.”
“Maybe,” she agreed. “Or maybe I’ve just had it with being convenient. Maybe I’m tired of being that cheerful, giving woman who is here to make your life easier—”
“You’re not that cheerful,” he interrupted. “And you’re far from convenient.” He marched to her, closing the distance between them. “In fact, what I feel for you is incredibly inconvenient.”
She blinked up at him, lips parting slightly. “You have feelings for me?”
“Hunger. Need. Want. Desire that never goes away.”
Two bright spots of color flamed in her cheeks. “I suppose I should be flattered.”