know,” he muttered and shoved one hand though his hair. “But we live in a celebrity culture now. People are more interested in what some rock star had for dinner than who their damn congressman is.”
She laughed a little, surprising him. “I missed that. Who knew?”
“Missed what?” Wes watched the slightest curve of her mouth, and it tugged at something inside him.
“Those mini rants of yours. They last like ten seconds, then you’re done and you’ve moved on. Of course, people around you are shell-shocked for a lot longer…”
“I don’t rant.” He prided himself on being calm and controlled in nearly all aspects of his life.
“Yeah, you do,” she said. “I’ve seen a few really spectacular ones. But in your defense, you don’t do it often.”
He frowned as his mind tripped back, looking for other instances of what she called rants. And surprisingly enough, he found a couple. His frown deepened.
“You’ve got your answers, Wes,” she said quietly. “What else do you want here?”
“Some answers,” he corrected. “As for what I want, I’ve already told you. I can’t just walk away from my own kid.”
“And what do you expect from fatherhood? Specifically.”
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I just know I have to be here. Have to be a part of her life.”
She looked into his eyes for a long second or two before nodding. “Okay. We’ll try this. But you have to dial it back a little, too. You’re the one trying to fit yourself into our lives—not the other way around.”
He hated that she had a point. Hated more that as confident as he was in every damn thing, he had no clue how to get to know a kid. And he really didn’t like the fact that he was standing this close to Belle and could be moved just by her scent—vanilla, which made him think of cozying up in front of the fire with her on his lap and his hands on her—damn it, this was not the way he wanted this to go.
“If you can’t agree to that,” she said, when he was silent for too long, “then you’ll just have to go, Wes.”
Fighting his way past his hormones, Wes narrowed his eyes, took a step closer and was silently pleased when she backed up so fast she hit the granite counter. Bracing one hand on either side of her on that cold, black surface, he leaned in, enjoying the fact that he’d effectively caged her, giving her no room to evade him.
“No,” he said, his gaze fixed with hers. “You don’t want to take orders from me? Well, I sure as hell don’t take them from you. I’ll stay as long as I want to, and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it.”
She took a breath, and something flashed in her eyes. Anger, he was guessing, and could only think join the club. But it wasn’t temper alone sparking in her eyes—there was something more. Something that held far more heat than anger.
“You lied to me for years, Belle. Now I know the truth and until I’m satisfied, until I have everything I want out of this situation, I’m sticking.”
She planted both hands flat on his chest and pushed. He let her move him back a step.
“And what is it you want, Wes? What do you expect to find here?”
“Whatever I need.”
Whatever I need.
Wes’s words echoed in her mind all night long. Even when she finally fell asleep, he was there, in her dreams, taunting her. It was as if the last five years had disappeared. All of the old feelings she’d had for him and had tried so desperately to bury had come rushing back at her the moment she saw him again.
She had three older brothers, so she was used to dealing with overbearing men and knew how to handle them. Isabelle wasn’t easily intimidated, and she wasn’t afraid to show her own temper or to stand up for herself, either. But what she wasn’t prepared for was the rush of desire she felt just being around Wes again.
He was the same force of nature she remembered him being, and when his focus was directed solely at her, he wasn’t an easy man to ignore. Old feelings stirred inside her even though she didn’t want them and the only thing that was keeping her sane at the moment was the fact that it wasn’t just her own heart in danger, it was Caroline’s. And that Isabelle just couldn’t risk. She had to find a way to appease Wes, avoid acting on what she was feeling for him and protect Caroline at the same time. She just didn’t know yet how she would pull it off.
“Well,” Edna said when Isabelle walked into the kitchen. “You look terrible.”
Isabelle sighed. Makeup, it seemed, couldn’t perform the miracles all the TV commercials promised. “Thanks. Just what I needed to hear.”
Edna was in her sixties, with short silver hair that stood up in tufted spikes. Her brown eyes were warm and kind and a little too knowing sometimes. Today she wore her favored black jeans, black sneakers and a red sweatshirt that proclaimed, For Most of History, Anonymous Was a Woman.—Virginia Woolf.
“Seriously, did you get any sleep?” Edna pulled a mug from under the single-serve coffeemaker and handed it over.
It was gray and cold outside, typical January weather in Colorado. But the kitchen was bright and warm and filled with the scents of coffee and the breakfast Edna insisted on making fresh every morning.
Grateful for the ready coffee, Isabelle took the cup and had her first glorious sip. As the hot caffeine slid into her system, she looked at her housekeeper and gave her a wry smile. “Not much.”
Sipping her own coffee, Edna gave her a hard look. “Because of Wes?”
She jolted and stared at the other woman. “How do you know about him?”
“Caro told us this morning. She says he’s pretty and that you said he’s a friend.” Edna tipped her head to one side. “Marco told me to butt out, but who listens to husbands? So, Wes is more than a friend, isn’t he?”
Before answering that question, Isabelle looked around and then asked, “Where’s Caro?”
“Outside with Marco. She wanted to make sure the snowman they made last weekend was still standing.” She paused. “So? Who is he?”
“We’ve known each other way too long.”
Edna laughed. “That’s what happens when you grow up in a town of twelve hundred people. We all know too much about each other. Probably keeps us all on the up and up. Can’t do a damn thing wrong around here and get away with it.” She narrowed her eyes. “And you’re stalling.”
“I know.” Pulling out a stool at the island counter, Isabelle dropped onto it and reached out to grab a biscuit she knew would be stuffed with ham and scrambled eggs. It was Caroline’s favorite breakfast, so naturally the indulgent Edna made them a lot. Taking a bite she chewed and said, “He’s Caro’s father.”
“Whoa.” Edna’s eyebrows shot up. “Wasn’t expecting that.” She leaned on the countertop. “What does he want?”
“Caro.” She took another bite and chewed glumly.
The other woman straightened up in a blink. “Well, he can’t have her.”
It was good to have friends, Isabelle told herself with a quiet sigh. She’d known Edna and Marco her whole life. They’d both worked for her family since Isabelle was a child. And at an age when they could have retired, instead, they’d come to work for Isabelle, to help raise Caro. And she knew that she would never be able to pay them back for their friendship or their loyalty.
Smiling, Isabelle said, “No, he can’t. But to be fair, he doesn’t want to take her away,