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  He rubbed the scruff on his chin. “An hour should do it. In the meantime, why don’t you buy me a cup of coffee?” Cash hitched his head at her cabin.

  “Welcome to Chez Aubrey.” She swung her arm wide, gesturing for him to follow her up the porch stairs.

  Aubrey headed straight for the kitchen and put on a fresh pot in her fancy grind-and-brew coffee maker, one of the things she’d managed to lift from Mitch’s on her way out. And why not? She’d paid for the darn thing.

  Cash came up next to her and washed his hands in the sink. She used to yell at Mitch that tending to basic hygiene should be done in a bathroom, not a kitchen. But as far as she was concerned, Cash Dalton could wash his hands anywhere he wanted to. He’d been her guardian angel these last two weeks while dealing with his own convoluted life.

  “How’s Ellie? Did she enjoy her ride?”

  “Yeah.” He dried his hands on a dish towel and cocked his hip against the counter. “We talked a little bit more about her mom and me. Not sure that went over too well. It’s hard to tell what’s going on in that small head of hers. One minute she seems receptive to making this work, the next, she’s begging me to send her back to Boston.”

  “It’s a lot of change at once. Give her time.”

  “That’s what everyone says.” He gazed out the window at the creek. “We’ll see how it goes. My parents are coming this weekend. I’m hoping that’ll help the situation. They’re good people and are thrilled about having a granddaughter.” He laughed. “I’m pretty sure they never thought it would happen.”

  “Are you an only child?”

  “Yep.” He turned and glanced at the coffee maker. “Is that done yet?”

  The machine was still gurgling, but Aubrey pulled the pot away and stuck a mug in its place. She pulled out a carton of low-fat milk. “Sorry I don’t have half-and-half.”

  “I take it black.” He peered over her shoulder into her nearly empty refrigerator. “You got anything to eat in there?”

  “Eggs, cottage cheese, and a couple of yogurts. I could make you a scramble and some toast.”

  “Sounds good.”

  He moved past her, unintentionally—at least she thought it was unintentional—brushing against her backside, and her body instantly reacted. Since finding Mitch with Jill, she’d expected to lose her sex drive. At least for a while. But with Cash, she seemed to be in a constant state of arousal.

  To get her mind off the sensation of his groin pressing against her, she handed him the cup of coffee and started on the eggs. He made things easier by taking his mug to the table. That little bit of distance forced her to concentrate on cooking.

  “Speaking of weekends, what are you doing next Saturday?”

  “Nothing, as far as I know. Why?” His big hands clasped her good-sized mug, making it look like a demitasse cup.

  “Brett Tucker is throwing a surprise birthday party for his wife, Jill, and I was hoping you and Ellie could be my plus two.” She paused for a second. “I thought if we acted like we were sort of dating, I could lay these rumors about Jace and me to rest. I mean, only if you’re comfortable with it. I wouldn’t want to do anything that would be…you know, weird for you and Ellie.”

  He took a long sip of his coffee, watching her over the rim of the cup. “What exactly is ‘sort of dating’?” He was being sarcastic.

  “You know what I mean.” She put her hands on her hips. “We don’t have to be in everyone’s face about it, which would probably look like we were putting on an act anyway. Just subtle stuff.”

  He arched a dark brow, his blue eyes dancing with laughter. “Subtle? What do you mean by ‘subtle’?”

  She could feel her face heat. “I don’t know, maybe we kiss or something.”

  “Kiss, huh?” His lips quirked. He was enjoying this way too much.

  But if she didn’t think it could work, she wouldn’t have asked him for the sacrifice. “You don’t have to stick your tongue down my throat. Just a peck on the lips, and you could also put your hand at the small of my back…uh, to make it look authentic.”

  “Sounds like a lot to memorize.”

  She balled up a napkin and beaned him with it, then went back to finishing his scramble before he teased her anymore. “Well, are you in or not?”

  “Sure…if you think it’ll work.” He said it as if he had his doubts. “What are you putting in those eggs.”

  “Cottage cheese. It’ll make them fluffy.” She turned around to find him standing there. The man moved like a ghost. “What?”

  “Just wanted to see what you were doing.” He held up his mug. “And get a refill.” But he made no move to pour himself another cup. In fact, he put the mug down on the counter while he watched her pour the egg batter into a hot frying pan.

  She reached over for a wooden spoon, and he caged her in with both hands. “Want to practice for the party?” Before she could answer, he crushed his mouth against hers.

  “Like this?” he whispered against her lips, and wrapped his hands around the lower part of her back. “Or this?” He pressed against the vee in her legs and took the kiss deeper.

  “Your eggs will burn,” she said but didn’t stop, twining her arms around his neck.

  “I just want to make sure we get it right. One wrong move and the jig is up, right?”

  “Exactly,” she murmured, no longer able to hold a coherent thought. He was doing something with his hips that was driving her crazy. Aubrey reached behind her and turned off the stove.

  He maneuvered her out of the kitchen, walking her backward.

  “Where we going?”

  “Bedroom.”

  She didn’t know if she’d make the nine or ten feet down the hallway, but there were an awful lot of windows in the rest of the cabin.

  “Ellie won’t be home for a few hours,” he said. “And you know what they say: Practice makes perfect.”

  “Mm-hmm.” She slipped her hands under his shirt, dying to touch real skin. He shuddered in a breath, and she proceeded to explore, running her hands over his six-pack. Not once had she seen Cash in gym clothes. Either he had amazing genes or he worked out in the dark. Either way, the man’s body was in tip-top shape.

  When they got to the bedroom, he pushed her down on the bed and fell gently on top of her. His weight, pressing her into the mattress, made her moan. He kissed the side of her neck and throat, his hands roaming over the thin fabric of her camisole, touching her breasts. She wriggled out from under him, sat up, and pulled her top over her head, leaving her in nothing but a white bralette.

  Cash hummed his appreciation, running his finger over the space where the lace met her breasts. “Is this for practice, or do you always wear stuff like this?” His eyes traveled over the lingerie, then stopped short where a good amount of her cleavage showed.

  “Depends on the day,” she said, rucking up his T-shirt for a sight of all those bunched muscles and tan skin. “Thursdays are white lacy bra day, Fridays are black, Saturdays are red.” The truth: She was lucky to find something clean, let alone sexy.

  “Black and red, huh? Let’s practice tomorrow, and Saturday too.”

  “What do you have on?” She tugged at the waistband of his jeans and peeked down his pants.

  He laughed. “Nothing that exciting.”

  “I’ll be the judge of that.” She fumbled with his buckle—damn Western belts—and when she couldn’t get it undone, he performed the task for her.

  Her fingers shook ever so slightly as he watched her unbutton his fly. When they were all undone, she spread the pants apart to find a significant bulge encased in black cotton. Boxer briefs. She liked. But she was pretty sure she was going to like what was inside of them even better.

  He lifted his butt and pulled off his pants, belt and all, and dropped them on the floor. Aubrey dragged his shirt over his head, finding a fu
rred chest with a happy trail that ended at the waistband of his shorts.

  “What about you?” He stuck his thumbs in the belt loops of her cutoffs. “Does the bottom match the top?”

  She assumed they were talking underwear and couldn’t remember what she had on. If he was referencing something else…why yes, the bottom most certainly matched the top. “Only one way to find out.”

  This time he did the honors, tossing her shorts next to his pants on the floor. She looked down at her panties. White Jockey hipsters. Not her first choice, but from the silly smile on Cash’s face, he was delighted.

  “Nice.” He rimmed the edge on the elastic of one leg with his finger.

  “Utilitarian,” she corrected and waggled her brows. “Sundays are thong days.”

  “Honey, I don’t care if they’re big, saggy bloomers.” He cupped her crotch. “My only interest lies in what’s under them.”

  She closed her eyes, luxuriating in the feel of his hand there. “Your turn, now.”

  With the modesty of a stripper, he stood up, hooked his fingers in the elastic waistband of his shorts, and jerked them down, showing off an impressive erection. Ah, who was she kidding? It was more than impressive.

  He moved on top of her again, letting her feel the full extent of his arousal, and she purred like a cat in heat.

  “Cash?”

  He went up on both elbows, dangled his head over her breasts and kissed each one. “Hmm?”

  “We’re doing this, aren’t we?”

  “That was my plan, unless you say otherwise.”

  She raised her arms, wrapped them around his neck, and pulled him back down. “Help me get these off,” she said, trying to shimmy out of her panties.

  He slid his hand underneath his hips and dragged her underwear down her legs. “What about this?” Cash pulled down the straps of her bralette.

  “Go for it.”

  He searched for a clasp and, when he realized there wasn’t one, brusquely tugged it over her head, then pushed up to gaze down on her. “Damn, how did I get so lucky?”

  Such a simple declaration. But the appreciation and desire she saw in Cash’s blue eyes made her chest flutter and her body warm to a fever pitch.

  He covered her breasts, weighing each one in the palm of his hands. She arched her back, desperate for more of him. His mouth moved over her, sucking and licking her nipples until she cried out. Then he began moving south, kissing his way down her belly to the throbbing need between her legs.

  Oh boy. Aubrey nearly came off the bed. She fisted both hands in the sheets, thrashing her head from side to side.

  As she intuitively knew he would, Cash Dalton could please a woman.

  “You okay up there?” he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

  “Oh, oh, oh” was as articulate as she could get. “Cash…I need…I need…”

  “What? What do you need, Aubrey?”

  The man actually wanted her to spell it out.

  “I’m going to…if you don’t stop.”

  “I think that’s the point, baby.” He kissed her inner thigh while his fingers took over. “Let yourself go. I’ll catch up…promise.”

  His mouth was on her again, laving and licking, driving her insane. Cash reached up and fondled her breasts, using his thumbs to circle her nipples. She shouted out his name as her body began to shake and tremble and strain toward him until she went limp on the bed, blinded by pleasure.

  “How was that?” he asked in a throaty whisper.

  She tilted her head back on the pillow. “Need you ask?”

  “Ready for more?” He hung off the bed and grabbed his pants, and Aubrey heard the tearing of paper.

  Then he kissed her, slow and deep, and with one long, hard thrust was inside her.

  “That’s so good,” she said as he pulled out and thrust back in.

  He put one hand under her bottom so he could go deeper, pushing in and out. To keep up, she threw her legs around his hips and met him thrust for thrust. Soon, he was pounding into her, harder and faster, making the pressure build.

  Holy cow, she was about to have another orgasm. That never happened to her. In fact, she was lucky if she had one.

  The hot pull of Cash’s mouth on hers filled her with ecstasy. And when he slipped his other hand between her legs she reached for that final satisfaction.

  “You almost there?”

  “Yessssss,” she said between breaths as her body began to spasm. “Oh Cash, oh Cash.”

  He took her higher and higher, grunting her name as he found his own release and collapsed on top of her. For a few seconds they stayed like that, tangled in each other’s arms.

  “Am I crushing you?” He rolled them both on their sides and shielded his eyes when the sun shone in his face. In their excited state, they’d forgotten to close the blinds.

  “I’m good.” And wasn’t that the understatement of the world? “Good” didn’t even begin to describe how she was feeling.

  “I’ll be right back.” He climbed over her and headed for the bathroom, giving her a nice view of his ass, which she took plenty of time to admire.

  She’d wanted to cuddle but now didn’t know what she was supposed to do. Wait in bed for him or be supercasual about it? Nothing about them sleeping together had felt casual, but men were different about sex, at least judging by Mitch. Aubrey didn’t want to make more of it than it was, so she gathered up her bra and camisole from the floor and slipped them on and found a fresh pair of panties in her drawer.

  Cash returned as naked as when he’d left, saw her dressing, and put on his jeans.

  “I guess we’re done practicing,” he said, a hint of disappointment in his voice—or maybe Aubrey had imagined it—and sat on the edge of the bed to pull on his boots. “Are you still offering to make me eggs?”

  Was he kidding? She’d make him a twelve-course meal. “Of course. I might even be able to scare up some bacon.”

  “Yeah?” His lips curved up, and something in her chest fluttered. He tugged on his second boot, got up, walked over to her, and planted a sweet kiss on her lips. “Thank you.”

  “No, no,” she said. “Thank you. I haven’t had sex like that since…uh, never.”

  Chapter 13

  Five minutes later, they were in the kitchen, practicing their domestic skills. The alternative to postcoital cuddling, Aubrey presumed. Oddly enough, it felt comfortable—and sexy—even though they were both fully dressed. Still, they wore the afterglow of being thoroughly sated. Aubrey in particular, though Cash appeared pretty damn happy.

  “You want more coffee?” she asked, prepared to make a fresh pot.

  “Nah.” He opened the fridge, rested his arms on top, and leaned in. “Okay if I have some juice?”

  “Knock yourself out.” She tossed out the eggs she’d started earlier and scrambled three new ones in a bowl.

  “Who else is going to this party?” He came up behind her and grabbed a glass from the cupboard, brushing her back with his chest in the process.

  She tried to focus on the question. “Probably everyone in town, including Jace and the boys. You’ll definitely know people.”

  “This Brett Tucker—he’s Jace’s high school friend, right? The one who used to play football.”

  “Right.” Aubrey got quiet for a second, remembering the old Brett, the one who still had use of his legs. “He joined the army after graduation and was injured by an IED in Afghanistan that left him a paraplegic.”

  “The guy in the wheelchair who eats breakfast at the coffee shop?” Cash asked, and Aubrey could see him putting the pieces together. Dry Creek was small enough that a disabled man their age stood out.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Whoa, I didn’t recognize him.” Cash brought the glass to the table and poured himself some juice. “I don’t think I ever
met his wife. Jill, you said her name was.”

  “Uh-huh. She used to be Jill Beals before she married Brett. Pretty much the only reason Brett keeps it together is for her and his kids’ sake. He’s excited about throwing this party for her.” It was the first time she’d seen an honest-to-goodness spark in him since he’d come back from the war. Most of the time, he only pretended to be his old self.

  Cash took a swig of the juice and came over to help her with the bacon. “You sure other kids will be at this shindig?”

  She stopped what she was doing and tilted her head to the side, as if to say are you kidding me? “This is Dry Creek; kids are always welcome. Ask Jace. Like I said, I’m sure Travis and Grady will be there.”

  “I guess it would be good for Ellie to meet some more young people her age. Her pool outing didn’t go so well. Some girl made fun of her Boston accent.”

  Aubrey stifled a laugh. Kids were idiots. “She’ll be fine. She may be a ferner”—she pronounced “foreigner” the good ol’ Dry Creek way—“but at the end of the day, she’s a Dalton. And around here, that means something.”

  “I don’t know about that. Sawyer and I weren’t around much before my grandfather died.” He got down a pan from her pot rack and spread out the strips of bacon. “Will Mitch be at the party?”

  “Probably,” she said, as blasé as possible. But from the grim set of Cash’s lips, he wasn’t buying her attempt at nonchalance.

  He turned to face her. “Are we pretending to be ‘sort of dating’ for Mitch, or to get negative attention off Jace?”

  If Aubrey didn’t know better, she’d think Cash viewed Mitch as a rival. “Mitch has nothing to do with this. He knows damned well Jace and I aren’t an item.”

  “Which brings us back to why he started the rumor in the first place, now doesn’t it?” His expression turned stern, and Aubrey got a glimpse of what he must’ve been like as an FBI agent. Formidable.

  “I told you, it’s complicated.”