Without saying another word, she made a beeline for the farmhouse, kicking her dirty shoes off on the porch before going inside. Just because she wouldn’t be cleaning Grayson’s house anymore didn’t mean she needed to make it harder for the poor person he tricked into replacing her.
Only, just as she walked into her bedroom and yanked her suitcase out from under the bed, she heard a sound that had her chest clenching tight. She ran out to the living room, where Sweetpea was coughing and shivering on top of her blanket.
No, not now. She couldn’t deal with this, too, not when her heart was already torn to pieces.
Lori scooped the cat up into her arms, pressing her lips to the soft, hairless spot between its ears. “Poor baby,” she said as she rocked it in her arms. “Poor, poor baby. You feel rotten, don’t you?” She kissed it again. “It’s been that kind of day for me, too.”
Grayson walked in, but she was so concerned about the cat who had been her one true friend for the past week, that his presence barely registered. While Grayson had been God-knew-where avoiding her the past few days, Lori had spent many hours with Sweetpea sleeping warm and purring on her lap, stroking the cat’s bony back as she tried to get her to eat the food and drink the milk she brought her every few hours. She’d been about to leave to save what was left of her heart, but now she knew that, no matter how much it hurt to be near Grayson, she needed to stay for the one true friend she’d made on his farm.
“Don’t worry, Sweetpea,” she told her furry friend. “I’m not going to leave. Not as long as you need me.”
* * *
When Grayson stepped into the house and saw Lori with his cat in her arms and heard her make the promise to stay no matter what, the relief that flooded him was so strong it nearly buckled his knees.
Before the storm, before they’d ended up in the cabin, he’d wanted her. But now that he’d touched her, tasted her, he realized that earlier wanting amounted to little more than the buzzing of a fly around his ears. He’d known that he’d pay for those moments of weakness in the cabin, and boy, was he. Because how could he possibly ever regret knowing how soft, how sweet Lori had felt in his arms, how shockingly sweet the sound of her moans, her gasps of pleasure, had been as she came?
And how could he ever forgive himself for the way he’d just lashed out at her, when he knew all she was trying to do was help him? Especially when she’d told him that she’d come to his farm to take a break not only from dancing, but also from men.
He knew he couldn’t be what she needed, but he shouldn’t have to hurt her to prove that.
“Lori,” he said in a low voice as he approached her, “I promised I wouldn’t do that to you again. I broke my promise.” He felt like he was swallowing fire as he said, “I’m sorry.”
God, he would have given up every one of his thousand acres just to see her smile up at him, just to hear her say, “You’re forgiven,” again like she had the day he’d lost it over the pigs and had offered to take her to buy cowboy boots.
Of course, he knew that wasn’t going to happen, not when he’d crossed over the line—way the hell over it—with her just now.
“We both know you meant every word you said to me,” she replied in an even voice, though her eyes flashed with fire. “And I meant every word I said to you. But don’t worry.” She stroked a gentle hand over Mo’s patchy fur and the cat gave a soft purr of joy at being showered with such pure, sweet love. “As soon as Sweetpea doesn’t need me anymore, I’ll be out of your hair.” Lori sneezed before adding, “And until then, we can just stay out of each other’s way as much as possible.”
She turned her full attention back to the cat, then, and he knew he’d been dismissed. So completely that he might never have been there at all.
Leave. He should leave, go back to his room, take a shower, and hit the sack to make up for all the sleep he hadn’t been able to get with Lori only a wall away at night—with visions of her naked and beautiful beneath her sheets running through his head on repeat until sunrise.
But he knew she had to be hungry after the long day she’d put in, so instead of leaving, he started to pull together dinner. Thirty minutes later, after having listened to Lori sneeze practically the entire time, he had two plates of spaghetti ready for both of them.
“Dinner’s ready,” he told her.
“I’m not hungry.”
“I know how hard you’ve worked today,” he said in a soft voice. “And I’ve seen you eat. You’ve got to be starved.” He put the plate down on the coffee table in front of her. “Please eat dinner, Lori.”
She looked from the plate to him, her brow furrowed with confusion. For another moment, he thought she’d refuse his peace offering, but then she said, “I really don’t understand you, Grayson.”
He wanted to tell her she understood him better than anyone else ever had, that everything she’d said to him had been right.
He wanted to tell her how wrong he’d been for lashing out at her when it wasn’t her fault that his wife had died.
He wanted to confess that he didn’t know how to get over his guilt for the way his marriage had crumbled and turned into tragedy.
He wanted to make up to her every harsh thing he’d said and done.
He wanted to hear the beautiful sound of her laughter and know that he’d pleased her, rather than constantly being the source of her tears.
But three years of near-constant silence made the words stutter to a halt inside his head long before they reached his lips. Grayson brought his plate over from the kitchen, sat down in the living room, and ate in silence with Lori and his cat.
Chapter Fourteen
“Do you have anything nice to wear?”
Lori was in the barn the next day getting another bag of feed for the chickens when Grayson walked in and asked her the totally random question. She hadn’t been able to forget the unexpectedly deep look of longing in his eyes as he’d come into the living room the previous evening to apologize. But neither could she forget the way they’d blown up at each other in the barn. So, instead of telling him that, yes, she had several really pretty dresses in her suitcase, she gestured at her mud-spattered jeans and T-shirt.
“What could possibly be nicer than this?”
That muscle in his jaw started moving. He needed to stop clenching it so hard or he was going to end up with terrible headaches. Not that she was going to make the mistake of telling him that. No, from here on out she’d keep her mouth shut and her opinions out of his life. That was what they both wanted, after all.