Page 28 of Sweeter Than Honey
"If that had been anyone with bad intentions toward you, he’d be in several pieces on the ground, and I wouldn’t look so damn human right now. Got it?”
He pulled her toward him with a gentle, firm tug. Cara dipped into him, her other hand landing on his chest so she didn’t fall completely into his lap. His eyes dropped to her lips as he leaned in. Breath hitching, pulse racing, she stared into his eyes, close enough to feel his heat and smell his woodsy, masculine scent. Jett cupped her chin in one big, rough hand… blinked then his brow knitted together.
And then he carefully set her away from him and ran a hand through his hair. Cara’s lips tingled with unmet need, her body begging to feel the press of his mouth. He put the truck in drive and sped the short way to the house, then parked with a jolt. Cara hugged her electronics box with one arm and popped the door open with the other.
“The next time you get the wild idea to try and kiss me, beless conspicuous about it.”
“Trust me, I will wrap a roll of duct tape around my entire face before that happens again.”
They each got out of the truck with Jett grabbing her bags from the back. He handed them to her. “Go inside and lock the door. I’ve got work to do out here.”
He turned and walked away, the masculine jaunt of his hips calling her attention. Damn, why did he have to look so good.
“You could never be an underwear model. Your ass is all used up in your personality!”
Jett slapped his right ass cheek, gave it a sarcastic squeeze, and kept walking.
Chapter Thirteen
Therewerelightsoninside his house.
Dusk had hit an hour ago. It took him a second to process when he saw the homey glow of lights coming from the kitchen windows and over the front porch. For years, he'd been coming home to the dark. Nothing about it had been welcoming or inviting. It had been so long since he’d felt this way about his own home.
With Cara in the house, the place seemed alive again. She'd only been there a couple of days, but her presence made it a little less painful to come inside at night. Normally, he waited until he was about to pass out on his feet to go inside. But something tugged inside his chest, telling him it was okay to walk in and enjoy the warmth, the light, her company.
He’d checked on her several times after their run to the electronics store. She’d stayed inside with the door locked as he’d instructed. At first, he’d checked on her from a sense of responsibility, but as the day went on, it became a compulsion. He was afraid if he didn’t, he’d come back to find her dead.
His run-in with Jere Lighthouse had thrown him off balance. The land developer was becoming more and more persistent in his desire to buy Jett’s property. He’d been scooping up land around the Estes Park pack’s territory for the past two years, constructing one luxury resort after another. He’s had more than one confrontation with pack members over offers to purchase their land.
Jett had quietly been considering the man’s overly generous offer; made the mistake of telling Jere that he’d think about it, and now the man wouldn’t stop bugging him. With Frannie gone, he’d had no real desire to keep the property. It had stopped being home a long time ago.
But… with Cara here, it made him think twice. Which was ridiculous. He hardly knew her, yet he couldn’t control or stop the way she made him feel. He was being stupid and reckless. A string of women had made themselves very available, making it clear they were willing to warm his widower bed. And he’d taken none of them up on the offer. He hadn’t a lick of desire to do so.
Until Cara.
Of all the women who’d come his way, she had to be in trouble, pregnant, and on the run. And beautiful, intelligent, highly accomplished. Warm. Not afraid to banter with him or call him out.
Fuck. He was in trouble.
He made his way to the porch while lugging a wooden crate of jars of freshly collected honey. He’d normally take the jars to the wash station in the barn, but the pipes had stopped working the other day and he needed to rinse the sticky residue from the outside of the jars. A wonderful scent tickled his nose as he approached the house. Roast beef?
He propped the crate on one hip and unlocked the door. It opened to reveal the tantalizing scent in all its full, rich glory. His stomach rumbled uncharacteristically. He didn’t usually eat more than once a day, sometimes twice if he remembered. And never at night where his kitchen table sat lonely and bare. Glancing at the table, he found it set with one place setting on top of a dainty yellow tablecloth with embroidered flowers on the hem.
Franny had purchased it at a thrift shop in Denver. He hadn’t seen it in years. His arms suddenly felt weak, and he almost dropped the crate. Looking away, he sought Cara but found himself looking around. The house seemed tidier somehow. Not that it had been messy, but it looked tended to. Fussed with.
She’d dusted, for one thing. The glass in the china cabinet gleamed. The floor looked freshly washed. His pulse picked up as an uncomfortable feeling rode his back. She’d cleaned and cooked and it looked nice, smelled great, but it wasn’t right. She wasn’t his...
“You’ll eat a slab of beef, right?”
Jett dragged his gaze to her as she pulled a roasting pan from the oven.
“I found this huge hunk of meat in your freezer. It might be beef. Maybe venison. I don’t know. I Googled how to cook it but no promises. Meat isn’t really my thing.”
He forced down a lump of emotion from his throat. “Okay.” He nearly dropped the box again. Damn it.
“Okay,” she parroted and plopped the roaster on the counter. “I’m going to let you cut it because surprise-surprise, my stomach is being a bitch.”
“Mmm-hmmm.” He set the box next to the sink. “I need to rinse these off.”
