“I read the letter, but that’s why I’m here. I don’t understand how standards have changed when I’ve paid my premium and the insurance company didn’t make me aware of changes to the policy. For the last few years, her insurance has covered nearly ninety percent of her care here. So now you’re saying that because she requires more care, the insurance is refusing to pay?”

  “Your mother does require more care—”

  “And you didn’t speak to me first?”

  “We don’t make the rules regarding insurance policies, but we do take good care of our patients. That’s a promise we make to families. Your insurance won’t cover the new medicines and the room and board of the new hallway. In the letter we explained that she had to be moved because she now needs constant care.”

  It was true, they had explained that since her mother was falling more and requiring someone to keep an eye on her now through the night, she had to be moved to another location of the home.

  “Look, Ms. Craig. I know circumstances change with families too. It happens. If you can’t manage the remaining cost, we can certainly discuss another home—”

  “No.” Realizing she’d snapped, she sighed. “I’m sorry, but I can’t move my mother. She’s settled here and moving would upset her, as well as the drive would be impossible for me to make every day.”

  Compassion flashed across the woman’s face for a mere second only to disappear into a blank expression she probably used often. She took a piece of paper off the pile sitting in front of her and she slid it to Abriella, not making eye contact. “I have broken down the expenses for her long-term care with us. I’ve included the amount that the insurance will cover and the remaining balance which is due in four weeks. If it would be easier, we can divide that amount up into payments.”

  Abriella looked at the numbers and cringed. The amount was triple what she’d been paying which was already a hardship.

  By the time she’d left the nursing home, she felt like her world had crumbled at her feet. Her mind scrambled for answers, but she came up with none. Her options were bleak. She could sell the bakery, but she would lose in the end. She could take on more weddings, even add catering back in the services offered, but where would she find the time? She wouldn’t be able to visit her mother as often, but what choice did she have?

  When she walked into Bluebonnet, DJ was sitting at the bar. “Hey, sis. Help me figure out the answer to this riddle. Who makes it, has no need of it. Who buys it, has no use for it. Who uses it, can’t feel it. What is it?”

  “A coffin.” She placed her purse under the counter and grabbed her apron from the hook. It suddenly felt like it weighed a ton.

  DJ marveled, “How did you get that so fast?”

  “It’s an old one.” She flipped the switch on the coffee maker to start a fresh pot.

  “You okay? You look like shit.”

  “Thanks, but I’m fine.” She couldn’t tell him the truth. The last thing she needed was for someone else to worry. Sifting flour into a bowl, she looked up to find DJ standing on the other side of the counter, looking at her pensively.

  “I’ve been thinking, the community college over in Brownsville offers a decent variety of classes. How about I—”

  “Don’t even finish that sentence.”

  “Hear me out.”

  “You have one year left. It’s ridiculous to think of transferring. Not going to happen.” She held her chin firm.

  “I saw the letter the nursing home sent you. You can’t afford the increase and my tuition too.”

  Catching him in her narrowed gaze, she pointed her finger. “Daniel Jacob. You know better than to go snooping through my things.”

  His bottom lip slightly puckered. “Just like you snooped at the letter regarding studying abroad?”

  She swallowed hard. He caught her. “The letter was sitting in the open. But this studying abroad thing, I think it sounds like it’s worth talking about.”

  “I’m not going.” He lowered his eyes sheepishly.

  “Why not?”

  “Because it takes money.”

  “Is that also why you didn’t join any of the clubs we discussed?”

  He scratched his jaw. “Hannah told me that things are rough.”

  Abriella sighed and came around the counter to hug his shoulders. “Now, about college, we’ll be fine. In times of hardship and in times of feast, we always get through, right?”

  “I guess, but—”

  “There are no ifs, ands, or buts, little fry. You let me worry about the stuff here in Tarnation and you concentrate on getting that pretty diploma.”

  “You’re going to be mad at me.”

  “And why is that?”

  “I’ve already applied to Brownsville and been accepted.”

  That evening after DJ had gone home and she’d already flipped the closed sign, she heard a soft tapping on the window. Her heart slammed against her chest. Baxter stood on the sidewalk, looking in. His hat was low on his forehead and his thumbs were hooked in his front pockets. Each and every single time that she saw him, her body responded wonderfully. After the crappy day she had, she needed someone to listen.

  Unlocking the door, she opened it part way, looking out at him. “We’re closed, sir. Come back tomorrow.”

  A lazy grin parted his lips and her nipples beaded. She was extra sensitive tonight. The fact that she’d drank a shot of whiskey didn’t help…or maybe it had more than she knew.

  “I was hoping I’d convince you to take a walk.” He swiped off his hat, holding it pressed against his broad chest. Those mighty dimples deepened sending a thunderous awareness through her. Several buttons were left undone on his shirt, showing off smooth tanned skin. She hadn’t seen him without his shirt and she wondered if he looked as amazing as she had imagined him?

  Wow! Was she tipsy? No. Not possible. If she were drunk, it wasn’t on alcohol but on the man she was trying her best to resist.

  Lowering her guard, she pushed the door open.

  “I was just speaking to the therapist. Want to join me?”

  CHAPTER 10

  “I never turn down therapy.” Baxter winked.

  He watched her cross the room, every sweet sway of her flared hips putting him under a hypnotic state. She seemed to be working her magnetism really well tonight.

  “Where’s DJ?” he asked.

  “He left a half hour ago. Close the door and lock it.” She rounded the counter and stepped through the kitchen doors and, after he did as she requested, he followed her trail of erotic desire.

  Abriella was holding a fifth of whiskey. That’s not what he expected.

  “Baxter, meet my therapist, Jack.”

  He watched her take down a small glass and place it on the counter next to another. She poured two fingers of the amber liquid into each, spilling some onto the stainless-steel counter. “This bottle has been stashed in the back of the cabinet for a couple of years now and I believe tonight was a good time to crack it open.” She pushed one of the glasses down the counter to him.

  “I like the way you think. Bad day?” He took his glass and leaned against the edge of the counter while she took a seat on top, swinging her legs back and forth as she brought the glass to her lips.

  She might have had a bad day, but she made his much better.

  “One helluva a day for sure.”

  “How many of these have you had already?”

  “Not enough.” She leaned her head against the cabinet, looking up at the ceiling a mere second before bringing her sultry gaze back on him. “Seems I’m having more and more of these kinds of days lately.”

  “Hell, nothing can be that bad. You’re alive.” He took a swig of the whiskey and swallowed, feeling it burn all the way into his gut.

  Her long hair hung in satin waves down her shoulders and her eyes were red-rimmed. Had she been crying? An emotional woman with a fifth of whiskey could be a dangerous combination, but he wasn’t one to suggest she put away the bottle and talk. Everyone deserved a session with Jack on occasion.

  “Looks like we have something in common, Bax. We’re both stuck here in Tarnation.”

  He blinked. “I thought you said you love this small town.” He took another sip, the alcohol relaxing him.

  “I do love it here, but believe it or not, I had dreams once upon a time. Seems like forever ago.”

  “But you put everyone’s needs before your own.”

  Rolling her finger around the rim of her glass, she sighed with great burden. “We don’t get to choose our path.”

  He shifted and leaned his elbows on the counter next to her thigh. “You don’t seem like the type to drown your tears in whiskey. How about we try to find a resolution? There’s a solution to everything.”

  She smiled and something quivered inside him. Something primal that he had no control over. “Are you trying to take Jack’s place?”

  “I’m just helping him out.”

  “Let’s see. Where do I start? How about I show you.” She reached into her back pocket and took out a folded piece of paper, handing it over.

  He read the letter that stated that her mother’s insurance wouldn’t cover most of her care. He neatly folded the letter back and sat it on the counter. “You still have the baking contest, right?”

  “Oh, that is if I win, and it still wouldn’t cover the costs.”

  A lone tear slipped down her cheek and his heart slammed hard against his chest. Tearing off a paper towel from the roll, he dabbed the wetness from her face. “No reason for tears, Bluebonnet,” he said softly. She looked at him with those amazing eyes and his throat constricted. He wanted to comfort her, hold her in his arms and tell her everything would be okay, but he could risk losing himself. Risk falling hard.

  And yet, wouldn’t he lose himself if he didn’t touch her?

  Wrapping his arms around her, he gently pulled her against him, relishing in how soft she was in his arms. She stiffened against him, and for a moment he thought she would push him away. But instead she rested her cheek against his shoulder and relaxed, almost melting against him.

  The plump firmness of her breasts pushing against his chest reminded him that she was all woman. She felt good, so right, pressed into him. He heard her sniffle and she pulled away a mere several inches so she could look down at him. Her eyelashes were moist, her cheeks flushed and her lips pink and trembling. She was so damn beautiful. Damn enticing.

  “You must think I’m a blubbering, drunken idiot,” she mumbled.

  “No. I think you’re a passionate, giving woman who is faced with hurdles.”

  Sage eyes stared back at him and he grinned.

  *

  A mixture of adrenaline and excitement riddled through her body, turning the temperature up in the kitchen. His eyes turned several shades of blue and her heart pumped faster, so much that she became dizzy with desire. His gaze claimed hers, holding it in a comforting blanket. She could fall, allow him to take all her sadness and turn it into wonderment. He had broad shoulders, wide enough for her to lean on.

  “You’re really a nice guy, aren’t you?”

  “I guess I have my moments.” His voice lowered to a rich husky octave that told her he was turned inside out.

  Her nipples peaked and her stomach fluttered. All her parts, even the ones that had been neglected for so long, became fully submerged in the fact that his warm soothing hands were on her. His thumbs drew figure eights on her skin, like the strike of a match on flint. His caress weaned her from being slightly sozzled to intoxicated with a feeling that didn’t come from a bottle.

  Trouble had a new name and it was Baxter Colt.

  Without a sliver of thought for the repercussions of her actions, she pressed her palms against his chest, absorbing the warmth and solidarity. He was broad and toned, and he flexed under her touch. Time stood still as a secret promise entwined them in its unwavering hold. He moved his hand along her waist, heat bypassing her skin and clothes, seeping into her bloodstream. His scent pleased her senses, drawing her in, destroying doubt.

  He was the sexiest man alive. The most alluring. The strongest. She wanted to lose herself in him. Even if only for a moment.

  He was holding her close, looking at her like he could lick her from top to bottom.

  Then she did what she’d wanted to do for some time.

  Lowering her mouth, she covered his, moving her lips over his, tasting whiskey and mint. Sliding her tongue along the plump curve, he opened to her and she dipped inside, getting a better taste. His arms wrapped tighter around her, dragging her closer until she felt the tightness in his body. Bringing her hands up into his hair, she knocked his hat off and onto the floor, but he didn’t seem to mind as they continued to kiss.

  Baxter pulled away to press his lips against her cheek, her jaw, her neck to lick the dip of her collarbone. Goosebumps scattered her flesh as a pleasure heightened moan escaped her. Arching her back, her nipples tingled as a multitude of pleasure and bittersweet pain coursed through her veins. He became her whiskey.

  The beeping of her cell broke through the haze. She didn’t want the intrusion—only wanted to continue feeling like she was on top of the world. He made her feel complete, desired, wanted, like never before.

  He stiffened and took a short step back, “We should take a breather.” The huskiness in his tone abraded her skin. Rejection needled through the desire swarming her senses.

  “Why? I thought—”

  “I do want you. I do, Abriella. More than my next breath. More than I want tomorrow. But there’s something I must tell you. Or rather, ask you.”

  “Now?”

  “I have a solution to your problems.”

  “A solution? I don’t understand.” She wrapped her arms around her waist where desire still glowed like the morning sun.

  “We should get married.”

  She blinked as she absorbed his words. There was no possible way she heard him right. “Did you say we should get married?”

  He took a wider step back. “Yes.”

  Sliding off the counter, she stared at him. “I’m not looking for a pity proposal, Baxter. Is that how you see me? Like a desperate victim looking for a man to take care of her problems?”

  “Abriella…”

  “Baxter…”

  “This is not a pity proposal. I came here tonight to ask before you showed me the letter. Give me a chance to explain.” His eyes pleaded.

  “No. I can’t. We don’t know one another. Please leave.”

  CHAPTER 11

  Baxter hung up the phone with DJ and pulled back the curtain on the window. He saw nothing through the heavy rain. It had been coming down for hours and the weather report was calling for torrential flooding in Tarnation and surrounding areas.

  DJ said that Abriella had gone out hours ago to deliver a cake to a venue and hadn’t come back. She wasn’t answering her phone and he was concerned about her safety.

  Baxter respected DJ and liked how he watched over his sister—how they watched over each other. He’d even recently talked to Baxter about joining the military after college and wanted to hear about the advantages and disadvantages. Problem was, the young man was worried about his mom and Abriella and leaving her with all the responsibility. He didn’t think she’d understand if he joined and would be disappointed. Baxter assured DJ that his sister would support him no matter what he chose because that’s what Baxter believed.

  The rain pounded the roof and he was now worried about Abriella too.

  He wasn’t familiar with the area, but from what DJ said, they have trouble with flooding on the country roads.

  Baxter hadn’t talked to her since he’d suggested they get married. Hell, he understood how much of an idiot she probably thought he was just up and proposing. Maybe if he told her everything, confessed his dire situation and how they could help one another she’d see the advantage. Or she’d punch him in the gut and never speak to him again.

  He liked her. He really did. But the pressure of needing to get married distorted everything.

  Rightly he should give her some space and then try and speak to her later. Yet, what if she was in trouble? What if she was caught in the weather? Truth was, he wanted to see her and worrying about her was a good enough excuse.

  Grabbing his coat and hat from the hook on his way out the door, he headed toward the stables and saddled up a horse. If the roads were as bad as DJ said, the truck wouldn’t get far and the horse would be his best bet. They could go around the flooded areas and through the woods if necessary.

  The rain came down so hard that it rolled off the brim of his hat. The wind stung his cheeks and he hunkered deep into his thick Carhart. The temperature had dropped which made the night bitterly cold as he followed the directions DJ said Abriella had taken to the reception hall a few towns over. He hoped she didn’t attempt to drive through any standing water and if she was indeed stuck somewhere, she had stayed put in her truck and out of the elements.

  A raw taste climbed his throat as he pondered her well-being. Thinking of her in danger drove through him like a sharp blade. He hadn’t slept much since he saw her last and all he wanted to do was talk to her, explain that he wasn’t a bad guy—that he wasn’t anything like his dad.

  Something about her conjured all his protective instincts, made him feel like the giant wanting to reroute any pain or harm that would come her way. Truthfully, he’d never been in touch with his emotional side. Never had strong feelings of nurturing or soothing a woman’s sadness, until now. No wonder Milly dropped him like a hot rock. Looking back, he hadn’t been much of a boyfriend. Could he make a better husband? Maybe it came down to finding the right woman because caring for Abriella felt right, scratched the surface to parts he never knew he had. That big, red organ in the center of his chest really did exist for something more than survival.

  Could he be falling for her?

  No. Not possible. Right?

  So then what were those emotions that came alive when she walked into the room? How her smile made his day better. Kissing her had turned him inside out, and although he did want to take things to a more intimate level, he also wanted to have conversation with her. Hear how her day had gone. What flavor of ice cream she liked, or her favorite flower, and if she loved the ocean as much as he did. Where she wanted to spend the rest of her life.

 

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