And this had been the reason she’d run away in the first place. Snow knew, with every ounce of her being, that she and Caleb were not meant to be, but then he’d smile or say the right thing and her misgivings went right out the window. If she’d told him she was unhappy, he’d have convinced her things would get better. If she’d asked for a divorce, Caleb’s easy charm would have had her begging to stay before she’d known what she was saying. She couldn’t reason with him, and she couldn’t keep her heart out of the equation when he was around.
But in the end, she couldn’t hurt him. Not the kind of hurt that would come with learning his own mother had kept her secret. When Snow had been certain that notice of the end of their marriage would come in the mail at any time, she didn’t have to think about the mess she’d created. Regardless of what some Louisiana law said, she’d had no intention of taking a dime from Caleb. She only wanted to give him his life back and let him move on to find the right girl.
The society princess who would give him perfect babies, throw perfect dinner parties, and please his persnickety parents.
Vivien McGraw likely had a batch of Southern debutantes ready and willing to fill Snow’s shoes. Picturing her husband showing off his new bride—tall and slender with the body of an underwear model, waves of blonde hair dancing around her shoulders, and proof of pedigree in her dainty clutch—made her nearly toss what little salad she’d managed to swallow for lunch.
Snow’s grandmother’s voice echoed through her mind. “Rip it quick and sure, baby. Draggin’ it out only makes it worse.”
That’s what she needed to do. Walk inside and send Caleb back where he belonged. This one-month thing had been pointless from the start. She’d revert to her original plan. Be impossible to live with until he couldn’t hit the road fast enough.
Her mind set, Snow climbed out of the car, marched through the garden gate and up her porch steps. He’d left the light on for her, something that softened the girlish section of her brain. She hardened her heart. A little light didn’t mean anything. Caleb needed to go.
With one final deep breath for courage, Snow opened and stepped through her front door ready to be the shrew of all shrews. Except there was no one in sight. It wasn’t as if her apartment was so big that Caleb could hide somewhere. His Jeep was outside, so he had to be here. The scent of something spicy and mouthwatering filled her senses, pulling Snow toward the kitchen.
Lifting the lid on the pot simmering on the stove, she couldn’t believe her eyes. How did Caleb know how to make chicken and dumplings?
“Hattie sent that over,” Caleb said, startling Snow into dropping the lid with a clang.
She looked up to find him standing in the doorway to her bedroom wearing nothing but a towel around his hips. Her heart rate skipped to double time as heat danced up her spine.
“You talked to Hattie?” she asked, struggling to keep her eyes above his chin.
“Spent the day with her,” he said. Noticing he was dripping on the carpet, he added, “Hold on. I need another towel.”
You need to get some freaking clothes on, Snow thought, leaning on the counter for support. Her knees didn’t seem up to the task of keeping her upright. Closing her eyes tight, she mumbled, “I can do this. Just stay strong, Snow. Stay strong.”
The words weren’t really helping, but she repeated them silently all the same. Caleb emerged from the bedroom once again, this time with another towel around his neck that he was using to squeeze the water from his hair.
“That’s an interesting landlady you have there,” he said, crossing to the counter as if he weren’t half-naked and they were some happily married couple who did this every day.
“Landlady?” Snow asked, her brain not functioning on all cylinders.
Caleb retrieved a glass from the second shelf. “Miss Hattie. The woman in the big house attached to this one?”
“Right,” Snow said, stepping into the small living room in the hopes that more distance between them would cool her awakened libido. “Miss Hattie.” The distance helped enough for his previous statement to sink in. “Wait. You spent the day with Miss Hattie?”
“Not voluntarily,” he said, pouring himself a large glass of milk. “Not at first, anyway.”
Snow removed her coat and threw it over the back of a chair. “Are you saying my landlady forced you to spend time with her? I find that hard to believe.”
Hattie Silvester, as far as Snow knew, had little time or patience for the males of the species. Why Caleb, a complete stranger, would be an exception to the rule was beyond Snow. She could see a younger woman fawning over his pretty face, but not Miss Hattie.