Everywhere and Every Way(31)

"Before my arrest? Yes. It was very nice."

Hmm, maybe normal conversation wouldn't work. Still, he tried again. "My  brothers used to hang out at that bar you went to. Made the best  burgers in the state. Closed down for a number of years. I was glad to  see someone finally bought it. You didn't happen to have a burger, did  you?"

She tossed him a suffering look of pure impatience. "Sydney had the  burger. Personally, I don't think I'll be going back there again whether  they put the Big Mac out of business. Maybe it's the whole prostitute  thing, I don't know."

Ouch. Maybe he'd shut up until she realized he'd kind of kidnapped her.  They spent the next fifteen minutes being quiet, and then her head spun  back around. "Where are we?"

"My house."

"I don't see the Hilton."

Her acerbic wit cut right into him. "I thought you could crash here  tonight in the guest room. Hang out with me for a bit. My place is so  much better than a hotel."

"Do you have a concierge, cook, and maid service? Spa tub, steam shower, and private balcony?"

"No."

"Your brothers live here with you, too, right?"

He gave a sigh. "Yeah, but we never see each other. We have eight guest rooms."

She seemed to struggle with her decision. Damn, she looked tired, but as  usual, her stubbornness won. "Better pass. I'll be fine."

He could argue and try to make her stay. Hell, he craved a good fight  with her and hoped the experience led to making up in bed. He imagined  Morgan naked and writhing beneath him while he punished her for  tormenting him. But tonight she needed something he doubted she saw too  much of. Gentleness.

He reached out slowly and cupped her jaw. Running a thumb over her  bitten lip, he watched her pupils dilate with surprise and something  much more interesting. Something he knew he needed to explore further.  "I'm not trying to be an asshole. I know you'll be fine. But you had a  hell of a night, and I don't want you to be alone. I'm asking for me,  Morgan. I won't touch you. You can get a good night's sleep, and I  promise to make you a great breakfast in the morning. Deal?"

She studied him for a while with those baby blues. Caleb ached to bend  his head and finally taste her, but it wasn't the time or the place.  "What if people talk?"

He grinned. "Princess, no one's gonna talk. I promise you, I'll take care of it."

She considered. Cal knew if she insisted on going back to the hotel,  he'd obey and just sleep outside her door. Finally she nodded. "I guess.  Okay. I like French toast."

"Cut out the French part and replace it with butter. Then I got you covered."

She grinned. He led her inside, keeping the door half-shut to block the  brigade about to run her down. "Remember not to panic. They're all bark  and no bite." Then he stepped inside.

The joyous howl hit his ear right before two strong bodies were upon  him. He tried desperately to stave off the disaster. "Gandalf, Balin,  down! Down!"

Their paws skidded on the slick floors inches before him, but it was too  late. They slid full force, and he jerked back with a hmmph. The dogs  took that for approval, and then it was a free-for-all, with lashing  tongues and eager head butts. He repeated the "Down!" command a few more  times until finally they both managed to get off him.

Damn. They'd already flunked out of obedience school. Should he try again?

Morgan peeked around the doorframe. "Is it safe?"

He grabbed on to their collars. "Never, but come on in."         

     



 

She walked over to them with such tentative curiosity, he knew she'd  never been around animals. She stuck out both hands in an awkward  greeting. Balin and Gandalf recognized her scent and tried to bolt  toward her. Caleb hung on for dear life. "Just pet their heads or  something. They're dying to say hello."

She smiled and rubbed their ears, murmuring softly. They calmed down at  her touch, and he was able to let go. Her face gentled, and a glowing  warmth seemed to emanate from her as she wrapped herself in their canine  presence. "They're so sweet," she said. Balin bumped her nose and gave  her a hearty lick. Was that a giggle, or had he heard incorrectly? "Are  they always so loving?"

"Yeah, they pretty much live for affection. My father hated dogs, but  once I found these two goofballs I knew they were meant for me.  Christian never admitted it, but I think they even ended up charming  him. I caught him once with Balin's head in his lap. Let me take them  outside first, and then I'll show you where you can sleep tonight."

He kept the potty visit short and refused to let Gandalf investigate a  crackle in the woods. His obsession with squirrels was a definite  problem. Finally, Cal took her upstairs.

He decided to give her the gold room. It seemed to fit her, with its  warm tapestries balanced with earthy creams. A bit vintage, with an  antique brass bed, French spindled furniture, and delicate lace  curtains. The matching master bath held a claw-foot tub plus a steam  shower. He pointed to the dresser. "There's a mishmash of clothes in  there. I'm sure you can find a T-shirt in your size." He motioned toward  the bath. "Its fully stocked with anything you need. We keep a few  rooms ready for guests."

"This is amazing," she said, her gaze sweeping over the room. "Who designed this house?"

"My mom," he clipped out. "She had good taste. I'll be down in the kitchen for a while if you need anything."

"Thanks, Caleb."

Their gazes met and locked. His chest tightened, so he cleared his throat and broke contact. "Welcome."

Caleb left her alone, retreated to the kitchen, and refilled the dogs'  water bowls. What was her real story? The more time he spent with her,  the more he wanted to know. There seemed to be a richness behind her  facade that he craved to explore, from her cool control, to her hot  temper, to her gentle heart. She'd befriended Sydney. Loved his dogs.  Held the respect and affection of his brothers and crew. Yet, she had no  real home of her own. No lover. No long-term friends. Why? Did she hold  secrets or a dark past? Or was she simply career-driven and enjoyed  having no ties? Either way, he respected and admired her.

Now, though, he wanted to know her.

Caleb collected a few dirty mugs and Hershey wrappers, cursing Dalton's  messiness. Then he moved Tristan's laptops from the countertop to the  table. The guy had about four of them, and they cluttered every room. He  shared a roof with his brothers but didn't see them much. He'd thought  after their long talk on the porch they would spend more time together,  but it seemed they were on different schedules. Last time they actually  sat together was to watch a baseball game on a rare empty Sunday  afternoon.

A faded memory sprung to life.

Junior league. He'd been damn good at baseball, racking up some trophies  and acquiring a nice curveball and sinker as a relief pitcher. Decent  at bat, too. He'd been hanging with his friends to check out Dalton's  game, which was a few hours after his. Cal remembered the taste of hot  dogs and Coke, the sting of the sun on the bleachers, the solid smack of  the ball against the bat.

When Dalton got up to bat, they were losing by two in the final inning,  down to the last out. Cal surged to his feet with Tristan, and they  cheered him on. The intensity and pride on Dalton's face told him how  important it was to be the game winner. To finally be able to go home to  their father and say he was good at something.

Dalton struck out, and they lost the game.

Cal had a date that night. Tristan had plans with his friends. They cut  out on both promises and stayed home with Dalton. That night, his mother  cooked a huge meal and baked fresh apple pie. She got out the old photo  albums, and they spent the night sifting through memories, eating pie,  and sharing laughs.

He remembered that night she sat on the edge of his bed and spoke words  he'd never forgotten, almost as if she knew one day they'd be battling  to get back to one another.

There is nothing more important in this world than blood. Your brothers  are part of you, and your soul won't be complete without them. Make sure  you take care of each other, but more important, make sure you forgive  each other . . .         

     



 

"Caleb?"

He spun around. She shifted her bare feet, tugging down the oversize  navy T-shirt that held the Pierce Brothers logo. It was so long, she'd  chosen not to put on any bottoms, and her legs remained bare. She'd  scrubbed her face clean, and he spotted the faint freckles scattered  over her nose, the natural pink of her lips, the soft gleam of white  skin under the kitchen light. Lust hit him fast and hard, taking him  down faster than Mayweather could punch. An overwhelming primitive need  to growl and pin her beneath his body blasted him in waves. Holy crap,  he'd never felt this intense before. Especially when a woman stood in  front of him with no trappings, looking a bit vulnerable from the  evening's chaos. Caleb tamped down on his inner beast and tried to keep  his hands busy.