Ride Wild(16)

"Blue. Okay, sure. Thanks, Haven."

"Blue! See, I knew it!" Ben said. Slider gave him a thumbs-up.

"No problem," Haven was saying. "Hold on, here's Dare."

"You're painting a room for Cora?" he asked. Slider could almost imagine  the look in his eyes, observing all kinds of things you didn't really  want anyone else seeing, but Dare always saw anyway.

"Yeah. Just freshening things up for her," he said matter-of-factly.

"Want help?" he asked.

That wasn't what Slider expected at all. He had a kneejerk no on the tip  of his tongue, but if he was going to start doing a better job with the  people in his life, that had to include his brothers, too, didn't it?  And there was no better time to start than now . . .

So . . .

"If you don't mind, that would be great. But I'm doing this today. I know that might be too last minute-"

"Count us in."

Which was how, three hours later, a painting party got under way in  Cora's bedroom and bathroom, with Dare, Haven, him, and his boys all  working on different parts of the walls, ceiling, and trim. They'd  pushed all the furniture to the center of the room, and the new bed was  covered in bags of what Ben called their loot from Target.

Music playing from Dare's cell phone, the open windows welcoming in the  fall afternoon breeze, and the sound of everyone's chatter and laughter  made the house feel alive in a way it hadn't in so long, as if asking  Cora to move in was rousing the old farmhouse from a long slumber.

Maybe it was waking Slider up, too.

When they were done, the men cleaned up the tape, plastic, and paint  supplies, while Haven and Ben unpacked the Target bags and took a load  of new bedding down to the washing machine.

"Hey, Sam," Dare said, "would you mind grabbing me a cold soda from the fridge?"

"No problem," Sam said.

"Wash your hands before you touch anything," Slider said.

"You mean, like this?" On a laugh, Sam lunged at him and managed to  grasp the bottom of Slider's beard, leaving a swipe of blue in his wake.

"What the hell-heck-ya little monster," Slider said with a disbelieving  laugh. He pulled the kid into a playful headlock. It wasn't a hug. But  it was one of the first times in Slider's recent memory that the two of  them had touched.

Sam laughed. "Now will you finally get rid of that thing?"

"No way, I'm leaving it blue and scruffy and walking you into your  classroom tomorrow morning," Slider said, grinning as Sam groaned and  got away. And then he disappeared to get Dare's drink.

Leaving Slider alone with Dare, who was looking at him like he had three heads in addition to a blue beard.

"What?" Slider asked.

Dare shook his head, the expression on his face like he was debating, and then he held out a hand. "Welcome back, brother."

The words lodged an immediate knot in Slider's throat. Slider grasped  his friend's hand, and it felt a whole lot like a lifeline. "I'm not  sure if I'm all the way back yet. Or if I'll ever be."

Nodding, Dare didn't let go. "I get that. But you'll never get anywhere  if you don't try. And the man I'm looking at is trying, and it's damn  good to see."

Sam came flying back into the room. "Here you go."

"Thanks, buddy," Dare said, dropping Slider's hand and taking the can.  And then their focus was back on home improvement, as if Dare hadn't  just made two years of Slider's bullshit okay with a single handshake.

That night, the boys refused to go to bed until Cora's room was all put  back together again. The blue walls were still drying, but that didn't  keep them from rearranging the furniture, making up the bed, putting  down the new area rug, and stacking fresh towels in the linen closet.

"Think Cora's gonna like it?" Slider asked, really hoping she would.

"Yeah," Sam said.                       
       
           



       

"Me too," Ben agreed. "Today was fun, Dad. I liked painting and having Dare and Haven visit."

Slider had, too. And that surprised him, this apparently new ability to pull his head out of his ass. "It was fun, wasn't it?"

Both boys nodded.

"I think . . . I think we're going to try to have more fun around here. What do you say?"

"Yeah!" Ben said with a jump that proved his cast held him back not at all.

Sam was more reserved, giving a whatever nod and shrug that Slider  didn't buy at all. He cared, he just didn't think he should show it.  What was it going to take to get through to him? Slider wasn't sure, but  today felt like a beginning.

And that was more than he thought he'd ever have again.



Cora hopped into Slider's pickup truck where it had waited outside the  clubhouse for her a hundred times, but this time felt different. In less  than a week, he wouldn't be picking her up here anymore because she'd  be living with him.

"Hey," she said, unable to suppress her excitement.

Sitting behind the steering wheel, he turned toward her. "Hey."

Which was when Cora did a full-on, walk-into-a-sign, gobsmacked kind of double take. "Your beard. Your hair."

His face-which she could actually see-slid into a slow smile.

And, baby Jesus in the manger, Slider with a fresh haircut and a clean  shave was not just handsome . . . he was panty-droppingly hot. Like, she  was half tempted to reach down and make sure her panties were still on,  despite the jeans she wore. His hair was shorter on the sides and  longer on the top, long enough that she could tell he'd raked at it with  his fingers, which totally made her fingers jealous. He had cheekbones  for days, and a dimple. A freaking dimple. Just one. But that smile  showed it off enough that she couldn't help but stare. "You have a  dimple."

He chuffed out a laugh. "I know. I'd almost forgotten."

"Did you just laugh?" She reached for the handle. "I'm sorry, I think I'm in the wrong truck. I'm waiting for Slider . . ."

He rolled his eyes. "Giving me a hard time is not part of the job."

She couldn't help but laugh. "Have you met me before?"

Shaking his head, he put the truck in drive. But Cora couldn't stop staring.

"Look that bad?" he finally asked.

"No. No, not at all," she said, her face going hot at being called out. "It looks good. I didn't mean to stare, but I-"

"You never have to apologize for looking at me, Cora."

She blinked. Blinked again. What the hell was she supposed to say to  that? Well, good. Better get used to it, Slider. Because you're about a  gabillion times hotter than I ever imagined. Can I lick you now?

Oh, my God. It was everything Cora could do to not bury her face in her  hands at how far south her thoughts had just turned. And she was about  to move in with this man.

The man who was her boss, with the kids, with the broken heart.

"Um, what did the boys think?" she finally asked.

"Liked it," he said. "Said I looked younger. Apparently, they felt I'd gone Duck Dynasty on them."

Chuckling, she nodded, drinking in her fill of him again since he'd  given her permission. His face in profile now was killer. Not just  because of the high cheekbones, but because of his angular jaw, too. And  the kids weren't wrong-getting rid of the beard had taken at least ten  years off his face. Although maybe it was the smile that was doing that.  Either way, something seemed different about Slider, and it wasn't just  the makeover.

Back at the Evans house, Cora had barely walked into the living room  before the boys each grabbed a hand and pulled her up the steps.

"What's going on?" she asked with a laugh.

But Slider just shook his head and followed them up, something close to a  smile playing around his lips. Full lips. Lips that had a little scar  on the bottom right that distracted her to the point of wanting to taste  it.

God, what was wrong with her?

But she didn't have a chance to answer that, because just then, the boys  tugged her to a closed door at the end of the hall and told her to open  it.

Whatever it was, she'd never been in this room before, so she opened it like a clown might jump out at her.

Sam reached in and flicked on the light switch. And all Cora could do  was gasp. The smell of fresh paint hung lightly on the air, which meant .  . . they'd done this for her.

"Go in!" Ben said, giving her a little push.

Cora walked in like it was a museum. Quietly. Reverently. Not touching a  thing. Her gaze went from the big bed, covered in a beautiful and fun  blue and white comforter with a kind of bohemian medallion-and-floral  design, to the lamps with their pretty crystal bases, to the  soft-looking, cream-white area rug with a light blue design all through  it. A bay window looked out onto the side yard and a cornfield beyond,  and another window offered a view of the front yard, together making the  room bright and cheerful.