Just Once (31 page)

He looks up at me. “Kate, I was jealous. I’ve never been crazy about anyone this way. I don’t act like this, I swear. You have me on edge. Everything about you catches my eye. I can’t focus when you’re near. And I guess I can’t handle the thought of anyone else touching you.”

“You didn’t have to watch a video of someone else dry-humping me in a bar.”

He squeezes his eyes shut. “I know.”

“Someone you hate.”

“I know.”

“What do you want me to say, Shane? That every time you’re angry it’s okay to insult me and run to Cassidy Reyes so long as you apologize after?”

“No.” He looks miserable.

“Then what?”

“I want you to say you’ll take me back.” It looks like it’s killing him to utter such humbling words. And for a second I’m stunned.

“What?”

“I want to do this, Kate. For real. I know you’re leaving, but until you go, I want to do this. No secrets. Not casual. Just…us.”

I slump onto the far side of the couch, completely flabbergasted. There’s no other word for it. I can’t decide if I’m more shocked by the fact that he’s actually saying these things, or that I’m seriously considering them. A week ago I would have jumped at the chance to be “real,” but now that I know how “real” things can get, I don’t know if I’m up for it.

“It’ll never happen again,” Shane says, facing me. “I swear it.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I’ve never felt this bad in my life, and I don’t want to feel this way again. You’re too good for me, Kate. Everyone knows it. But what the fuck? Let’s pretend we’re equals for the next couple of months.”

“We are equals.”

“Then take me back.”

“How can I trust you?” I wipe a tear off my cheek.

“I’ll do whatever you want. As long as it takes. Just try again.”

“If you touch her I’ll kill you.”

“Agreed.”

“If you even talk to her.”

“Whatever you want.”

“I’m not going to fuck you because you apologized.”
Even though I really want to.

Shane clears his throat, like the words are a physical blow. “I understand.”

“Well, all right then.”

We sit stiffly on opposite ends of the couch, like a couple in the Victorian era.

He glances at me. “What now?”

“I guess I’ll go back to my room.”

“Okay.”

I stand and smooth my skirt. “Good night.”

Shane stands too, then goes to the door and pushes it open. I have to brush along his body to get outside, but I suppose that was the point.

“Good night, Kate.”

I call up my self-control and refuse to throw myself at him, despite what my hormones are urging. I return to the lodge with my back straight, wounded pride on the mend.

Chapter Nineteen

I S
LEEP
T
HROUGH
M
Y
A
LARM
the next morning and stumble into the kitchen at seven thirty.

“Well, look who decided to show up,” Hailey croons.

I glower at her and pour myself a cup of coffee.

“Late night?”

“Not really.”

“So what happened?”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to say nothing happened, but then I consider Shane’s proclamation that he doesn’t want things to be a secret, and I try to tell Hailey we’re together. As in,
together
-together. But I can’t. It feels weird.

“We talked,” I say.

“About?”

“About—”

“Sleeping beauty hath arrived!” Matt announces, coming in with an empty coffee pot. “Thank you for joining us.”

“Glad to be here.” I shoot Hailey a look. “We’ll talk later.”

“You bet we will.”

Midway through the service I’m making toast for a guest when I hear someone clear his throat. I already know who it is, but still my heart beats a little faster when I see Shane framed in the back doorway, thermos in hand.

“Morning,” he says, watching me carefully.

“Morning.”

“I came for some coffee.”

“Sure.”

He unscrews the thermos cap, and I pick up the fresh pot and fill him up.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

He glances over my shoulder, and I follow his gaze. No one’s looking. The only person in the kitchen is Alec, and he’s busy cooking.

“I guess I’ll see you.”

“Yeah. Okay.” God. I sound like I’m thirteen. So does Shane.

“Right.”

He hesitates, makes a move to leave, then turns back. “Come here, then.”

I’m only a foot away, but I shuffle closer, as ordered. Eyes open, he bends down and presses his warm lips to mine. We linger for a moment, then pull back.

Shane clears his throat. “Later.”

“Later.” I watch him go.

When I turn around Hailey is right behind me, arms crossed. “
That’s
what happened?” she asks, her tone a weird mix of surprised and smug.

I shift awkwardly. “Sort of.”

“Well…”

“Do you think I’m pathetic?”

The corner of her mouth quirks up in a smile. “Honey, I think you’re alive.”

I return her smile and scurry off to work, but spend the rest of the morning unsuccessfully trying to dodge additional questions. I finally relent when she corners me in cabin seven and demands details in exchange for carrying back the load of dirty towels I’ve amassed. It’s a fair trade, so I recap the previous night’s making-up story and she leaves, satisfied.

After lunch I visit the pool to swim before my nap. When I came to the ranch I promised myself I’d swim regularly, but so far I’ve made it out just a handful of times. Fortunately the pool is free, and I’m just finishing my tenth lap when I feel the water shift as someone dives in.

I’m at the deep end, so I tread water and watch as a large, tan figure swims along the bottom of the pool, stopping in front of me. Shane floats up slowly, fingers trailing over my legs before releasing me when he surfaces.

“Hey.” He smiles.

We’re so close I can see the sun reflected in his eyes. The smile is contagious, and I can’t stop one from spreading across my face. “Hey.”

“Busy morning?”

“As always. You?”

“Same.”

He runs a hand through his wet hair, water sluicing down the sides of his face. His foot bumps mine under water and our eyes meet. “Want to race?” he asks.

“I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me. Let’s race.”

“Where?”

“To the other end of the pool.”

“What the hell for?”

“Are you afraid?”

I scoff. “Please.”

“Then let’s go. You ready?”

I can’t believe this is happening. Who is this man? But I prepare myself to race. We each grip the side of the pool and brace our feet against the wall.

“On three,” Shane says. “One, two, three.”

We push off and race to the far end. My front crawl is decent, but Shane’s is predictably stronger. He beats me by five lengths and waits in the shallow end until I pull up, breathing hard.

“Good try,” he says.

“Shut up. You cheated.”

“You want a head start?”

“Yes. Ten seconds.”

He laughs. “That’s how long it takes to complete the race!”

“Deal or not?”

He shakes my hand, calloused palm tickling mine. “Deal. I’ll count when you leave. Whenever you’re ready, Flipper.”

I take a deep breath and push off, swimming hard. I can’t hear anything over the sound of the splashing water, but I can see the end getting closer. And then a rough hand wraps around my ankle, yanking me to an abrupt halt. I flail for a second, then flounder as I see Shane swim past me.

“You did not just do that!” I shout, swimming to the far end.

“Do what?”

“Shane Maddox, who are you? Foreman, handyman, swim cheater?”

He smiles—a slow, sexy smile that reaches right between my legs. “I’m whatever you want me to be, Kate Burke.”

“I want you to be you.”

“Then yeah, I’m a swim cheater.”

He swims closer, pinning me to the wall, an arm on either side of my head. I hook my hands over my shoulders and grip the ledge so I don’t sink under, then close my eyes as moves in to kiss me. It’s weird, the heat that rises inside me despite the cool water I’m immersed in. And it’s distracting the way these simple, shy kisses touch somewhere inside that’s not used to being found.

I wait for Shane to deepen the kiss, to push his fingers into my hair and hold me still for his tongue, but it doesn’t come. He kisses me sweetly and thoroughly, but it’s the kind of kiss that’s not going to lead anywhere. Maybe it’s because he’s still apologizing or because he doesn’t know how I’ll react, or maybe it’s just because we’re in a public pool and anyone could come by, but he pulls away first and swims backward, watching me.

“I have to go track down a wayward calf,” he says.

“Does that mean what I think it means?”

“If you think it means I’m going to go look for a lost baby cow, then yes.”

I swim to the middle of the pool and tread water, watching as he climbs the stairs and picks up a towel, drying his hair as water runs down his gorgeous chest and drips onto the deck.

“Well…happy hunting.”

He smiles at me. “Thanks. See you later.”

I watch him go, perplexed. And maybe a little charmed.

The next four days are more of the same: chaste, sweet encounters that Shane initiates and ends. He finds me in the laundry room or between cabins, and each meeting involves silly banter and harmless kisses that stoke a fire that’s growing hotter each day. And as much as I wouldn’t mind more, some part of me holds back. Maybe it’s the older, wiser part finally taking the reins, but I think it’s more like my inner self-preservationist is coming forward, reminding me that the last time I said I wanted more, I got nothing at all.

Finally it’s Saturday. The guests are gone, and we have a whole afternoon and evening to ourselves. Shane and the ranch hands left an hour ago to take the guests to town, and we’ve just finished cleaning up the kitchen. Everyone else drifts off to nap or swim, and I beeline it to the office to pound out an email to Stanley, updating him on the new developments at the ranch. We played phone tag all week but never quite managed to catch each other, so this will have to do.

I click open a new message, type in Stanley’s address, and watch the cursor blink in the Subject line.
Relationship status
, I type. Then my mind goes blank. What exactly is my relationship status? Are Shane and I in a relationship, albeit one with a firm two-month deadline (as printed on my return plane ticket)? Or are we just openly, monogamously fooling around with the understanding that it’s not forever?

I don’t know how long I stare at the blank message, but I’m vaguely aware of Gina saying, “Back there.” A second later I look up to see Shane standing in the doorway. It’s a small office, and it feels almost claustrophobic with him in it. But claustrophobic in a good way, like the walls can’t bring us close enough together for my raging hormones.

“Hey,” I say. “I thought you were in town.”

“I’m back.”

“That was fast.”

He shrugs. “What are you up to?”

I sigh and close the message window, no closer to finding answers. “Nothing.”

“All right. Let’s go. Put on some sneakers.”

“Why? Are we racing again?”

Shane smiles—that sexy, beautiful smile that makes my heart pound. “No. We’re hiking. Get dressed. I’ll meet you out front.”

After changing into shorts and a T-shirt—and the requisite sneakers—I find Shane in front of the barn. He’s swapped work boots for hiking boots but is otherwise dressed exactly the same, with the addition of a canvas rucksack slung over his shoulder. “What’s in there?” I ask as we walk down the road. There’s a decent hiking trail on the other side of the river, and we head in that direction, the bright July sun beating down.