Except she hadn’t really been a woman. She’d been a girl, and he’d been just a boy.

  A stupid boy who made stupid decisions based on his dumb ego and his own selfishness.

  Well, he wasn’t a boy now. He was a man, and he knew how to control his ego and make smarter decisions.

  Most of the time.

  And Cherry was most definitely a woman.

  “Earth to Taylor. You gonna take this plate, son, or do you just want me to hold it for another ten minutes?” Russ held the plate out to him.

  He grabbed the plate, heat warming his neck. “Sorry, Dad, I was thinking about something else.”

  “Uh-huh.” He gave a light-hearted chuckle as he fixed himself a plate. “So, Cherry, have you heard anything about the diner? Do they know what the damages are?”

  “I haven’t heard much. I kind of put Stan in charge while we’ve been up at the hospital.” She looked over at Taylor. “I was hoping we could go over there tomorrow and take a look at the place.”

  Taylor nodded. “Sure. I’d like to see how bad it is too. What do you think, Sam? Do you want to go over and check out the diner?”

  The boy shrugged, his attention focused on twirling the loose strands of spaghetti around his fork. “Sure. Can I get a chocolate shake? Cherry always makes me a shake when we visit the diner.”

  “I don’t know what kind of shape the kitchen will be in, buddy,” Taylor said. “But I bet we can find a chocolate shake somewhere in town tomorrow.”

  “I hate to put you out,” Cherry told him. “I’ll try to see about getting my car towed tomorrow, too. I just haven’t had the energy to call anyone about it.”

  “I already took care of it.”

  “What do you mean you took care of it?”

  “I had the guys over at Westside Garage tow it in. They said the alternator was shot, and they were gonna put in a new one this afternoon. It should be ready by tomorrow.”

  She gave him an icy glare. “Why would you do that without even checking with me?”

  Whoa. “What’s wrong? Why are you upset? I thought I was helping. In fact, I kind of thought it would make you happy.”

  “It would have made me happy if you would have talked to me first.”

  She rubbed her hand across her forehead as if her head ached. “It’s just with the cost of the fire damage and the diner being closed, I don’t know if I can afford to replace the alternator right now.”

  “Don’t worry about that. I already took care of it.”

  She raised an eyebrow at him. “I don’t need you to take care of anything else for me.”

  He raised his hands in surrender. “All right. Listen, it’s no big deal. Dan owed me a favor, and he said he had a spare alternator around. Besides, he loves tinkering around on those old bugs. So don’t worry about it.”

  She glared at him, and he could tell she was trying to keep her tone light even though she spoke through gritted teeth. “It is a big deal to me. And I’d rather you not tell me what to worry about and what not to worry about.”

  “All right. Let’s all simmer down now,” Russ said. “I think we can probably save this argument until after dinner. And when Sam and I aren’t around.”

  “It’s okay, Russ,” Sam said around a mouthful of spaghetti. “My dad told me sometimes married people argue and that it’s okay. It doesn’t mean they don’t love each other, they just disagree. And since they’re getting married, we know they’re gonna argue sometimes.”

  Russ had been lifting his fork to his mouth, the tines full of sauce-covered noodles, and his hand stopped in midair.

  He cocked an eyebrow at his son. “I must have missed the engagement announcement. I hadn’t heard that you two were getting married.”

  Sam reached for the basket of rolls. “Yeah, they’re called fiancés. That means they’re getting married.”

  A light-hearted twinkle lit Russ’s eyes as he regarded his son. “This is certainly exciting news, son. When’s the big day? I want to be sure to get it on my calendar.”

  Taylor busied himself with taking a roll and spreading it with butter, his eyes focused on the task instead of his father. “We haven’t actually set a date yet. We’ll let you know.”

  His dad chuckled softly. “Yes, you be sure to do that.” He grinned at Cherry, who was suddenly extremely engrossed in her meal. “I’ve always wanted a daughter.”

  “I’ve always wanted a monkey,” Sam said, releasing the tension as the adults broke into laughter. “What’s so funny? Don’t you think it would be cool to have a monkey as a pet?”

  Taylor shook his head. The laughter felt good after the stress of the last few days. “Yes, I think it would definitely be cool to have a monkey.”

  He grinned at Cherry, and his insides did a funny little twist when she grinned back.

  And suddenly having a pet monkey seemed easier than having a fake fiancée and taking care of an eight-year-old broken-hearted boy.

  Chapter Seven

  Now what were they supposed to do?

  Cherry hadn’t thought about the sleeping arrangements until they’d finished tucking Sam into bed in the guest room later that night.

  Pulling the door shut behind them, she and Taylor stood in the hallway, awkwardly looking at each other. He graciously offered to sleep on the sofa.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” she told him. “It’s your bed. I can sleep on the sofa.”

  Russ walked out of the kitchen, a cup of tea in his hand. “Cherry, don’t be silly. You don’t have to sleep on the sofa on my account. I’m not that old-fashioned. You all can sleep in the same room. Heck, you are engaged to be married after all.”

  He chuckled as he headed for his bedroom. “Good night.”

  Left with little choice, they stepped into Taylor’s bedroom. He’d brought in the Walmart bags from the motel and laid them on the bed.

  Cherry sighed and dug through the bags for a toothbrush and toothpaste. “You know what? I don’t care where I sleep. I’m so tired I could fall asleep standing up.”

  Taylor opened a dresser drawer and handed her a gray T-shirt. “Just in case you wanted something clean to wear to bed.”

  He really was thoughtful. She brushed her teeth and stripped out of her clothes. She needed to get some of her own things from her apartment tomorrow.

  Would everything in her place smell like smoke? How much stuff would be ruined or smoke-damaged? Add that to her list of things to worry about.

  She sighed and pulled the soft T-shirt over her head, the hem coming to just below her rear. She could worry about those things tomorrow.

  Tonight she had something else to worry about.

  Like the six-foot-three hottie on the other side of the door whom she was supposed to go crawl into bed with.

  Taylor sat on the edge of the bed wearing a white T-shirt and a pair of gym shorts. He looked up as she stepped out of the bathroom.

  “It’s all yours.” She tugged the ponytail holder from her hair and shook her hair loose.

  His eyes went soft as he watched her hair fall, and something inside her went into tingle over-drive.

  Suddenly conscious of the short T-shirt and her bare legs, she pulled back the comforter and slipped into the bed. “The bathroom’s all yours if you want it,” she repeated.

  He shook his head as if coming out of a spell. “Oh yeah. No, I’m good. I already used the guest bathroom to brush.” He stood and looked around uncomfortably, as if he were unsure quite what to do next.

  Pulling his T-shirt over his head, he gave Cherry a great view of his muscled chest.

  She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry.

  He switched off the lamp. The bedroom window was open, the light from the moon illuminating the room, and a soft breeze carried the scent of summer.

  Lifting the corner of the comforter, he slid into bed, lying down on his back and looking up at the ceiling.

  Even with six inches between them, she could smell the masculine scent of his aftershave and the faint minty scent of toothpaste.

  The smell of toothpaste made her think of his mouth. His lips. Kissing him.

  Stop.

  Stop thinking about his lips.

  Stop thinking about kissing him.

  She hadn’t kissed him in close to nine years. Would he still taste the same?

  Would his lips feel the same against hers?

  Did he still do that funny thing that drove her mad where he sucked lightly on her bottom lip?

  He took a deep breath and shifted, as if trying to find a comfortable spot. He settled again, this time his arm closer to hers, and she could almost feel her skin heating from the nearness of him.

  Five minutes ago, she’d been so tired she could have fallen asleep leaning against a wall.

  Now she was in a soft bed, with a pillow beneath her head (a pillow that smelled like him), and she was wide awake.

  All of her senses were on guard, every nerve ending alert for the slightest movement. For the brush of his skin against hers. For his foot grazing hers as he shifted.

  Every thump in her chest echoed in her ears, and she tried to take a settling breath.

  Could he hear how hard her heart was beating?

  Calm down. It’s just Taylor.

  She’d known him since they were kids. They used to sit next to each other on the school bus. Their sides had touched thousands of times. He’d held her hand every day for her entire senior year.

  He’d also held her face as he tenderly kissed her. He’d held her waist as they’d danced at prom. He’d held her back as he’d moved against her in the darkened room of her grandparent’s basement.

  And he’d held her heart.

  She’d given her heart, her body, her soul to him.

  And he’d taken them, then left her behind.

  Driven off in that old blue pickup. The pickup where they’d first made out. First made love.

  And where they’d made Sam.

  “Did you ever think about me?”

  Geez, did she really just say that?

  Out loud?

  “All the time.” His voice was clear, not carrying any trace of sleepiness.

  Was he wide awake next to her, conscious of her every movement?

  She turned toward him, lying on her side.

  His eyes were open, still staring at the ceiling.

  “Why didn’t you ever call me?” Her voice was soft, barely above a whisper. Almost as if she didn’t really want him to hear her question.

  As if she were afraid to hear his answer.

  He rolled onto his side, facing her, and she read the pained expression on his face, even in the dim moonlight of the room. “I wanted to. I started to. Lots of times. But I didn’t know what I would say, so I chickened out.”

  Sheriff Taylor Johnson spent time in the military, carried a gun, was a policeman and a sheriff. And he was afraid of calling her? Of hearing her voice on the other end of the phone? She had a hard time believing that.

  “You don’t seem like much of a chicken to me. Why would you be afraid to talk to me?”

  He shrugged.

  The muscles of his arms flexed with the movement, and she wanted to reach out, to run her fingers across the hardened flesh of his bicep. “I guess I was mostly afraid that you wouldn’t want to talk to me at all. I was an idiot. A stupid kid. I was so full of myself and thought I knew what I wanted. Thought the military was going to be my ticket to freedom. You know I wanted out of this small town so bad.”

  “And was it? Your ticket to freedom?”

  “I don’t know. The military taught me a lot. A lot about myself. About what I wanted out of life. What kind of man I wanted to be. But it was also really lonely. You wouldn’t think it would be. I was surrounded by people all the time. And most of the guys in my unit were great. But you could have six guys in a room with you, laughing and belchin’ and talkin’ about getting laid, and you could even be laughing along with them, and still feel like you were all alone.”

  He sighed and reached out his hand, lightly pulling a strand of her hair through his fingers.

  She tried not to shiver as his slightest touch sent a wave of sensation down her spine.

  She held her breath, waiting for his next words, the dark room offering a sort of safety net. A protective shield around them where they could talk about the past.

  Talk about the hurt.

  His voice was deep, deeper than it had been when they were kids.

  He twirled her hair around his fingers as a slow smile spread across his face. “God, I love your hair. I used to lie awake at night just thinking about your incredible hair. And your freckles.”

  She rolled her eyes and let out her breath.

  “I know you hate them, but I loved them. Remember how I used to try to connect them into a dot-by-dot picture?” He chuckled.

  She laughed with him. “Yes. You were an idiot.”

  His laughter died. “Yeah, I was. I was an idiot. But I figured it out too late. Then I didn’t know how to fix my mistakes. The only thing I knew how to do was to move forward. To stay the course. I had made my bed and I needed to lie in it. I knew I’d screwed up, and I didn’t deserve you. And I knew by the time I got out of the service, you’d have moved on. I felt like I’d blown my chance. Plus you were pretty pissed at me when I left. That was a hell of a fight that last day, and I honestly didn’t think you’d ever speak to me again.”

  “Yeah, that was a hell of a fight.” Memories of that day filled her mind. They’d both said things they probably didn’t mean.

  She knew now that her anger had come more from her issues with her mom walking out on her when she was a kid than they had to do with Taylor leaving or him wanting to join the military.

  Their fight was full of teenage drama, and she cringed at some of the hateful words that she had thrown at him. “I’m sorry. I was hurt.”

  “I’m sorry, too.”

  As they spoke, their bodies seemed to have drawn nearer together, as if they were magnets being pulled closer by an invisible magnetic field. She could feel his leg a hair’s length away from hers.

  He reached out.

  Her breath caught.

  He skimmed the back of his knuckles softly down her cheek. “You’re so beautiful. Sometimes it hurts to even look at you.”

  Emotion swelled in her throat.

  Could this be real?

  Could Taylor be here, touching her face, so close that she could stretch out her fingers and touch him?

  He leaned closer, his breath warm on her face.

  The scent of his aftershave filled her senses.

  His thumb traced the edge of her bottom lip, and she wanted to weep for the sheer pleasure of his skin against her lip.

  Closer.

  His hand cupped her face drawing her nearer still.

  She couldn’t breathe.

  Couldn’t move. Frozen in anticipation of the taste of him.

  His lips grazed hers. Softly. Deliciously slow, as if savoring their flavor.

  He pulled back. Just a fraction.

  Testing.

  Teasing.

  His mouth against hers.

  The sweetest brush of a kiss.

  And she shattered.

  Something inside of her broke apart, and she fell. Her senses reeling, cartwheeling in a ferocious spin of emotion.

  She couldn’t think. Didn’t want to.

  Just wanted to feel.

  To taste.

  To kiss the lips of the man she’d dreamed about for nine years.

  She touched his face, kissing him back. Softly once.

  Again.

  More.

  She pressed her lips against his, kissing him harder, feeling the passion building inside and trying to control its release.

  She felt his hand dive into her hair, as he filled his fingers with it.

  Cradling her head, he drew her face closer, feasting on her mouth.

  He shifted then his body was on top of hers, the delicious weight of him pressing her into the mattress.

  Her leg wrapped around his, drawing him tighter against her as she returned his kisses. Met his desire with a fervor of her own.

  His hand slid under her shirt, and his fingers grazed her waist.

  She moaned against his mouth, her breasts tightening against his chest.

  Every nerve ending in her body was on fire. Her muscles taut with anticipation of the next feeling. His next touch.

  The bare skin of her stomach pressed against his, and she couldn’t get enough of his touch. She wanted to freeze this moment. This fraction of time, in the dark, in this bed, with his hands on her body and his lips crushing hers.

  She didn’t want this moment to end. Pulling back, she looked into his eyes. Eyes that she knew so well yet not at all. She searched for answers.

  Listened for him to tell her they might have another chance.

  Instead, the terrified screams of a child filled the air.

  Chapter Eight

  Taylor raced for Sam’s bedroom, his heart pounding in his chest, as he heard Sam scream again. Cherry was practically on his heels as she ran behind him.

  He flung open the door, the light from the hallway shining on the small figure tossing in the twin bed.

  The sheets were tangled around Sam’s legs, and his head was damp with sweat.

  Cherry pushed past him, calling the boy’s name as she reached his side. “Sammy, it’s okay. Wake up, sugar.”

  Sam blinked awake, his eyes filled with terror.

  He clung to Cherry’s arms. His breath hitched in his chest as he tried to speak. “I was having a nightmare. We were in the car, and the truck was coming right at us. I could feel it crash into us.”

  “Shhh. It’s okay now.” Cherry pulled him into her arms and cradled the boy against her chest. Her eyes looked frightened as she peered up at Taylor. “It was just a bad dream.”

  Sam pushed against her, his face contorted in pain. “But it wasn’t a dream. It was real. It really happened. The truck really hit us, and my mom and dad are really dead.”

  He stood in the middle of the room, frozen, not knowing what to do to help, his gut twisting for this little boy who’d just screamed from a nightmare.

  A nightmare that had really come true.

  The only thing he knew to do was try to be there. He crossed the room and sat on the bed on the other side of Sam.

 

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