Page 32 of 40 and (So Over) Fixing It
She shot him a startled glance, and he shrugged. “Scott seemed really nice from what I gathered”—on such a short meeting, five minutes tops once Erin and Thad had corralled the reluctant calf back into the barnyard with its mama—“but if it was what you really wanted, I would think they’d want to see you happy.”
“Oh, they would. It’s all they’ve really wanted for me. They treat me more like a daughter than a daughter-in-law.”
“But that doesn’t extend to you possibly moving down the road a bit?”
Her mouth twisted slightly. “They’re getting older. Scott has already had one scare.”
Right, the day Erin had almost run them off the road.
“I couldn’t forgive myself if I wasn’t there and something happened.”
“You’re not there every day, Erin,” he reminded her, keeping his voice gentle. And oddly enough, it really wasn’t that hard. Instead of the fierce contention that had lain between them since day one, he found himself instead wanting to help fulfill the longing underlining her words.
“I’m not. But having a field hand and not living there at all are two different things.”
They were; he certainly understood that. Being able to contact Thad at all times, knowing he was safe with his mother, wasn’t the same as living with him 24-7.
“Anyway, I’ve got a home already.”
He bit down on the inside of his cheek, keeping the words on the tip of his tongue inside. He wasn’t a part of Erin’s life, no matter how well it was coming to feel like they knew each other. No matter how explosive their reactions were to one another. He had no business poking into her life, her dreams.
“We’d better get these lights hung.” Erin turned abruptly, caught her toe on a floorboard, and stumbled into a stack of lumber next to her. An exasperated cry filled the air.
“What is it? You okay?”
Her back was to him, and he could see she was fiddling with something in front of her. “It’s fine,” she said, impatience creeping in. “Just fine—oh!”
She stumbled backward, right into Carter’s arms.
“Damn it!”
He situated her on her feet, then attempted to circle around. “Erin—”
“No, don’t!” She held up a hand, the other going to the front of her shirt, right over her breasts. “It’s fine.”
He begged to differ but decided waiting her out was better than arguing. She mumbled to herself, fiddling with her sweater. Finally an irritated sigh left her.
“Now will you tell me what the problem is?”
She mumbled again, this time to him.
“What?”
“I tore my sweater.”
“Okay.”
She sighed impatiently. “I ripped it open. Over my…chest.”
“Over…” Oh. His gut clenched, imagining what she was describing, what she still wouldn’t let him see.
“Damn it.” She turned around, a hand between her breasts. Not only must there be a tear beneath her fingers, but he could see the edges of the hole extending even farther, showing a bit of her belly and cleavage. “I can’t go down there like this.”
Neither could he, apparently—just the sight of that tiny bit of creamy skin had his dick pushing hard against his zipper. “You can just hold it until—”
“I don’t have any extra clothes,” she said. “I keep some in my truck, usually—you never know what’s gonna happen on a job site. But my truck isn’t here, remember?”
“Right.” He licked his lips, trying to remember why he shouldn’t stare at her chest. “Uh…”
