After accidentally confirming that every ounce of his upper torso was indeed made out of rippling muscle, Caroline decided that she couldn’t face Craig across the dining table and carry on a conversation without thinking of his steamy tan skin underneath his T-shirt.
“Why don’t we put something on TV while we eat?” she suggested, carrying their plates to the coffee table she’d found at a local antiques store and painted a soft shade of butter yellow.
“Wow, this looks great,” he said when he sat next to her on the sofa, which was really more of a love seat. It was too late when she realized that being this close to him, sitting side by side, was almost as bad as making eye contact with him.
“What do you want to watch?” she asked when he had a forkful of mashed potatoes and gravy in his mouth, then had to wait for him to finish chewing before he could answer.
“I don’t care. What do you normally watch?”
“Whatever I programmed on the DVR the week before.” She picked up the remote control and turned on the television and a list of her new recordings popped up on the screen.
He let out a little chuckle. “Looks like my choices are either all of last Saturday’s college football games or else an assortment of movies from the Hallmark Channel.”
“That’d be pretty much it,” she said, scrolling down. “I’m guessing you don’t want to watch this one about a big shot fashion designer returning to the small town where she grew up to attend her former prom date’s wedding to another woman?”
“Pretty sure I already read the book,” Craig said before biting into a crispy chicken thigh. His thick lashes actually fluttered closed as he moaned.
“So football, then?” Caroline said brightly, turning up the volume so the sportscasters drowned out Craig’s sighs of satisfaction.
“Sure,” Craig said as he wiped his hands on a napkin. “But I already watched the University of Montana game last Saturday.”
“I know they lost, but they’re still the top seed in the Big Sky Conference, and if they beat Portland State next week, they’ll go to the FCS playoffs.”
“Wait. You actually watch college football?” The squiggly eyebrow was back, but instead of looking surprised, his accompanying smirk made him appear doubtful.
“Craig, my parents have been guest lecturers at most of the top universities in the United States. So I’ve been to a football game at every Division 1 stadium and most of the Division 2 schools.”
“Wow. I guess I didn’t see that coming.”
“Seems as if we’re both still learning things about each other.” She smiled as she picked up a piece of chicken.
“Why don’t we see what’s on live TV?” he suggested and then shoveled another forkful of potatoes into his mouth. “This gravy is almost as good as my grandma’s.”
“Almost?”
“Well, it’s better, but don’t tell my Meemaw.”
“Will I be meeting your Meemaw at Thanksgiving?” Caroline tried to get her voice as neutral as possible. Now that the subject of his family had come up again, she didn’t want to seem too eager or even pushy. But she was dying to know more about the rest of the Cliftons. It would give her more clues about the man she was planning to marry.
“Probably. Unless she and my grandpa get into one of their fights beforehand. Even then, she might still show up just to make him mad. If they are going at it, though, you have to be very careful not to pick sides.”
“Please. I’m a wedding planner. Diplomacy during the heat of family disputes is my specialty.” She pushed the live-TV button on the remote control and since it was already set to a sports channel, an announcer welcomed them to the North American Championship Rodeo. “How long have your grandparents been married?”
“Oh, they aren’t married to each other. Meemaw is my grandma on my mom’s side and Grandpac is my dad’s dad.”
“His name is Grand Pack? Two words?”
“No.” Craig gave a slight grin and Caroline realized it was the first time she’d seen him not looking so blasted serious. Her knees would’ve gone all wobbly if she hadn’t already been sitting down. “Grandpac. One word. When I was a kid in Wrangler Camp, we had to learn how to work with leather, and I decided to hand tool Grandpa Clifton’s name onto the back of a belt. Unfortunately, as I started running out of room, my letters got squished closer together and I could only fit Grandpa C, which ended up looking more like Grandpac. My brother Jonathan had just learned to read, and when he sounded it out as one word, the name just kinda stuck.”
“Aw.” Caroline’s rib cage felt all warm and liquidy, just like her gravy. “I bet your Grandpac was so proud to wear something you made especially for him.”
“Oh, no, he couldn’t actually wear it. My grandfather is a man of considerable stature.” Craig extended his arms into a circle in front of his belly for emphasis. “And I’d used myself as the model and then added two inches because I had absolutely no concept of waist sizing. But he did put it in a display case and still brings it out every time Meemaw wears the feather-and-bead earrings I made her.”
“That’s sweet that your grandparents love showing off the gifts you made them.”
He shook his head, but kept glancing at the television as he spoke. “It’s not sweet, it’s calculated. They’ve never gotten along and are always competing with each other to be the favorite grandparent. It usually means lots of great presents at Christmas and birthdays, but the rest of the year we all just try to get out of the room as soon as the bickering starts.”
Craig shrugged before directing all of his attention at the bull rider on the screen and effectively ending any further discussion.
She finished eating and soon lost interest in whatever the commentator with the turquoise bolo tie was saying about the combined score in the short go-round. Plus, Caroline still needed to email her parents and look over her notes for tomorrow’s meeting at work. Craig didn’t seem to notice as she stood up and retrieved her laptop off the dining room table. When she settled back onto the couch, she powered on the computer and got to work.
At some point she’d brought her legs up into a crisscross position and Craig’s elbow ended up resting on her knee. Caroline enjoyed the discovery that they could spend a pleasant, ordinary evening side by side, in companionable silence. At least, they were enjoying it until the announcer said, “Our next rider is on pace to beat the record for consecutive rides, a record that was set six years ago by Craig Clifton before he retired from the pro circuit.”
At the mention of her fiancé’s name, Caroline lifted her head in time to see an image of a younger Craig flash on the screen.
“That’s you!” she said, pointing to the TV.
“Yep.” His hand slipped between their bodies and Caroline held her breath, wondering if he was finally going to make some sort of move. Instead, he found the remote wedged into the cushions and hit the power button. “It’s getting pretty late, huh?”
“I didn’t know you rode in the rodeo,” she said, pivoting her upper body toward him and resting an arm across the back of the sofa.
He wasn’t rude enough to point out the obvious—that there were actually a lot of things she didn’t know about him. But he also didn’t seem particularly inclined to provide her with the details, either.
“Is that how you got your scar?” She had barely traced the hook shape when he pulled away.
“I’m going to do the dishes,” he said, his hip knocking into her knee as he stood up quickly. Carrying their plates into the kitchen, he glanced back at her with a pointed look and added, “You should probably get to bed.”
The guy had barely said two words for the past hour and now he only spoke when he wanted to boss her around. Caroline stood up and followed him, remaining on the opposite side of the kitchen counter that separated the sink from the rest of the living area. “What about you?”
“What about me?” he asked, not bothering to look up as he rinsed off their silverware.
“Are you coming to bed?”
“I’ll go to sleep after I clean up the kitchen.” Craig was proving to have quite the habit of carefully phrasing his answers.
Caroline angled her head, trying not to let the frustration settle onto her expression. “But where will you be sleeping?”
“I can bunk on the couch.” He might have shrugged, but it was too difficult to tell since he was leaning sideways to load the dishwasher.
“It’s more of a love seat,” she replied, estimating that he had to be at least six feet tall. “I mean, it can fold out into a bed but the mattress is thin and the frame is kind of wonky with the support bar going right across the middle.”
“I’ve slept on worse,” he replied, his knuckles turning white as he tightly gripped the cast-iron skillet.
“Yeah, but don’t you think you’d be more comfortable in my bed?” The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. It wasn’t exactly like she was eager to hop into bed with the man she was still trying to remember. But she also recalled his comment this morning about his back and she didn’t want him spending another night in agony.
Besides, she was learning that she never got any answers out of Craig unless she pushed him.
“Here’s the thing, Caroline.” Craig glanced toward the bedroom, but when he faced her, he wouldn’t meet her eyes. A pit settled into her stomach as she realized the answer before he said it. “We haven’t slept together yet.”
* * *
Craig hated the fact that he’d obviously brought that shocking pink color to her cheeks last night, but there had been absolutely no way he could’ve lain next to her in a bed all night and maintained his distance.
Hell, he was having a hard time maintaining his distance this morning as the scent of sizzling bacon woke him from his crooked sleep on the uncomfortable sofa bed. Caroline stood in front of the stove, stirring scrambled eggs in her cast-iron skillet, looking like one of those old-fashioned housewives from the Leave It to Beaver era.
A silky, flowery dress hugged her backside before flaring out above her knees, and she had another pair of high heels on her feet. Who dressed like that to cook breakfast?
When she turned around to pass him a mug of hot coffee, he noticed that a white apron with a cherry print covered the front of her dress. Her brown hair was clipped away from her face and fell in soft waves down her back. Craig didn’t know what looked more appealing—her or the plate of perfectly crisped bacon she handed him next.
If he hadn’t already seen how much food she could put away in her petite frame, he would’ve assumed that she was trying to impress him with her cooking skills. But since she divided the eggs into equal portions on their plates, it was obvious that she enjoyed food as much as he did.
“What time do you need to be at your office this morning?” he asked.
“I was hoping to go in around eight and get things set up for the meeting.”
He glanced at the digital clock on the stove. “That was thirty minutes ago.”
“I know, but I don’t have my car and you were out cold on the sofa bed, so I didn’t have the heart to wake you.”
Craig rubbed his neck and tried not to think of the stiffness in his back that had kept him awake the first half of the night. Well, it was his aching muscles along with a side of guilt and a constant awareness of Caroline’s physical proximity that had kept him from getting to sleep before two in the morning.
“Let me just grab a quick shower and I’ll take you,” he offered before carrying his coffee into the bathroom with him.
Fifteen minutes later, he was backing his truck out of the long driveway and she was handing him an English muffin filled with the eggs and bacon he hadn’t wanted to take the time to eat.
When he pulled into the gravel parking lot at Sawmill Station, her little blue MINI Cooper was the only vehicle there. Just as it had been yesterday afternoon. Grabbing her laptop case out of his crew cab, Craig followed her inside the former one-room train depot that served as her office. The Daltons had bought the surrounding land last year for their ranching operation, but because the train depot and the larger freight house next door were historical landmarks, they couldn’t tear them down. From what Craig understood, Vivienne, Cole Dalton’s wife, had moved her wedding planning business to Rust Creek Falls and they now used the space to hold big parties.
Perfectly good waste of grazing land, if you asked Craig.
“You don’t need to hang around,” she said, flipping on the lights and setting a bright yellow tote bag—similar to the one she’d had yesterday—on an antique desk with fancy scrollwork.
“But there’s no one else here,” he said, dropping to his knees beside a modern wood-burning stove in the corner. It was freezing in this place.
“I know, but Brendan and Fiona will be here soon. Plus, it’s not like I’m at risk of falling asleep or knocking myself out. Again.”
“But the doctor said we shouldn’t leave you alone,” he reminded her.
“Did she say for how long?”
“Not exactly. Though I was under the impression that you needed someone with you until you got your memory back.”
“But, Craig,” she said as she smiled, “I do have my memory back. Or at least most of it.”
So then why did she still think they were engaged? He wanted to ask her as much, but he didn’t know how to without it sounding like some sort of test. Plus, he heard a car pull into the lot outside.
He got the fire going and rose up just as Brendan Tanner and his girlfriend, Fiona O’Reilly, walked inside. They greeted Caroline first, and when Fiona turned Craig’s way, she did a double take.
“Hey there, Craig. I wasn’t expecting to see you here.” Fiona’s family owned a local ranch, and when Craig had been stuck in the hospital with Caroline and bored out of his mind, he’d read one of her online articles about the free-range grazing habits of Herefords. “Are you volunteering for the Presents for Patriots fund-raiser, too?”
“Nope,” Craig answered a bit too quickly and his single syllable response did nothing to wipe the curious expression from Fiona’s face.
“My car got left here in the parking lot, so Craig had to give me a ride to work this morning.” Caroline’s explanation wasn’t helping the matter, either. He held his breath as his supposed fiancée turned toward him. “You’re more than welcome to stay, honey, but I’m sure you have other things you need to do today.”
There was a slight gasp at her use of the endearment and he realized that it had come from his own mouth.
That settled it. There was no way Craig was sticking around and waiting for Brendan and Fiona’s questions that would be sure to follow. He squared his shoulders and took Caroline up on her suggestion that he leave.
“Okay, then I’m going to head over to the Daltons’ stable and talk to them about their new longhorn.” It was his way of letting her know that he’d still be nearby if she needed him.
“We’re supposed to be meeting Bailey Stockton here,” Brendan called out to Craig, who paused as he made his way toward the exit. “So if you see a guy in the parking lot who looks like he’s got a chip on his shoulder and would prefer to be out riding horses instead of inside talking to actual humans, go ahead and point him in this direction.”
Craig knew some of the Stocktons from his past visits to Rust Creek Falls, but not Bailey. He was the most recent one to move to town, and Craig didn’t blame the guy for wanting to get as far away from the wedding planner’s office as possible. In fact, if Craig did run across the man, he’d probably invite him to hop in the truck with him so they could both get the hell out of Dodge.