Filled with the mouthwatering aromas of spaghetti sauce and Italian sausage, the entire house smelled amazing. To Hunter, it was the aroma of home. Certain scents—bread baking, chicken roasting, spaghetti simmering on the stove—brought back many of his childhood memories, both before and after his parents’ deaths. Mae Larson, the kind woman who’d taken in fifteen-year-old Hunter, had loved to cook. Since her own grandchildren hadn’t expressed any interest in learning, she’d taught Hunter. He’d found not only did he enjoy assembling the ingredients and experimenting with seasonings and flavors, but the entire process relaxed him.
He couldn’t help but hope a simple, home-cooked meal might also assist in making Layla feel more at ease.
Pouring each of them a glass of red wine, Hunter kept one eye on the front window so he’d see Layla pull up. Not only had he managed to finish all his usual day-off chores, but he’d made a quick run to the store for a bottle of Chianti and a loaf of crusty French bread. He’d made a huge bowl of salad, which now chilled in his fridge.
His stomach growled, reminding him that he’d skipped lunch. No worries, as he planned to eat his weight in pasta tonight.
The instant he spotted her rental car heading down the street, his heart kicked into overdrive. He took another sip of wine, stirred the sauce and popped the bread into the oven to warm.
Layla came bursting through the door, her hair flying behind her. A few steps in, the aroma apparently hit her, because she slowed, lifted her chin and sniffed the air. “Wow,” she said, sauntering into the kitchen. “A man of many talents.”
“Thanks.” Grinning, he handed her a glass of wine. “I’ve been craving pasta all day, so I made it, plus salad and bread. I figured it’ll be the perfect kind of meal for a chilly night like tonight.”
The warmth of her smile made his entire body heat. “It really is. And a nice way to end a good day. Plus, I’m starving. I can’t wait to tell you about my day.”
Like friends. Or partners.
He smiled back. “I can’t wait to hear about it.”
“Let me go clean up and change,” she said, taking another sip of her wine. “I’ll be right back.”
Watching her walk away, a giddy sort of possibly dangerous happiness filled him. Whatever, it felt good. He’d been right. Sometimes all it took was a simple thing to get people to move past the awkwardness.
She reappeared just as he finished tossing the salad and getting the bread out of the oven. “What can I do to help?” she asked. She’d put on black leggings and a long, faded blue sweatshirt, as well as a pair of fluffy, furry slipper-boots. Eyeing her, he lost all appetite for food. He craved her. Only her.
“Hunter? Is there anything you’d like me to do?”
Blinking, he swallowed back what he really wanted to say and shook his head. “Nothing,” he told her, gesturing at the table. “Sit, relax a minute and then we’ll eat.”
Following his instructions, she sipped her wine and watched while he got out the salad and some dressing, removed the bread from the oven and sliced it, and then drained the pasta, mixed it with the sauce and cut up sausage into a huge bowl. To top everything off, he’d shredded some mozzarella cheese.
“Amazing,” she commented, her blue eyes wide. Goose, always hopeful for handouts, assumed her position in between their two chairs. This made Layla laugh again, the brightness of the sound bringing another smile to Hunter’s face.
“I must have really needed time off,” she said. “I haven’t felt this happy in a long, long time.”
His chest constricted at her words. Part of him wanted to tell her he thought her sense of well-being was more than simply taking time off from a high-pressure job. The possibility existed that she’d finally had a chance to do the kind of work she was meant to do. He well knew how incredibly fulfilling that could be.
But he kept his mouth shut. It wasn’t his place to make judgments on her life. Layla was a smart, educated woman. No doubt she’d reach the same conclusion without his help.
“Dig in,” he said, nudging the salad toward her.
“I believe I will.” Her cheeks were flushed. “I’m incredibly grateful. This is the first time anyone other than one of my father’s cooks has ever cooked a meal for me.”
“What about your mom?”
“I barely knew her. Once her marriage to Fenwick ended, she wanted nothing to do with me. I haven’t seen her since I was four.” Then, because she wanted to keep things light, she picked up her fork. “That looks amazing.”
“Taste it first,” he teased. “You might just change your mind.” Even though he’d made this exact dinner numerous times and knew it would be delicious.
With another laugh, she dug in.
While he’d prepared dinners for other women, none of them had ever felt like this. Before, he’d used them as a prelude to seduction—candlelight, slow music playing softly on the stereo, rushing through the meal to get to what would hopefully happen after. He’d never met a woman he craved as much as Layla Colton. He wanted to get to know every inch of her, not just her admittedly delectable body but her mind, too.
Oblivious to his tumultuous thoughts, she ate with the same sensual appreciation she always did. Mouth dry, he pretended not to watch her while he tried to eat.
In between bites of food, she told him all about helping out with the dogs, excited when he also knew several of the canines by name. He listened and watched her while she talked, wondering if she realized how she glowed with enthusiasm.
“Sounds like you really liked it,” he commented, the vibrant beauty of her spirit making him ache to touch her. But he didn’t want things to get off track, so he kept his hands busy with slicing more bread, refilling their wineglasses and offering more pasta.
“I’m stuffed.” She tilted her head, a mischievous glint in her bright blue eyes. “Please tell me you made tiramisu for desert.”
He pretended to smack himself in the forehead. “I knew I was forgetting something. I should have picked one up at the bakery or something. Here’s the sad truth. I can cook, but I can’t bake. At all. And believe me, I’ve tried.”
“I’m sorry.” Expression serious now, she leaned across the table and touched his arm. “I was joking. I’m so full after all this, there’s no way I could eat anything else. Thank you for making this wonderful meal for me. It was delicious and the perfect end to my day.”
“Sounds like you had a good one.” Again, the ache to touch her. Or better, to pull her into his arms and kiss her. Instead, he pushed to his feet and began clearing the table.
Immediately, she jumped up to help him.
“No need,” he said firmly. “Get some more wine and go relax. I’ve got this.”
Again, her warm smile slayed him. “I will, then. And thank you.”
Instead of going into the living room, she sat back down at the table. Sipping her wine, she watched him, her expression pensive. He tore his gaze away and focused on the task at hand.
Glad he could stay busy, he rinsed their dishes off and placed them in the dishwasher. He covered up the leftover spaghetti and carried it to the fridge.
“That’ll be even better tomorrow,” she commented, surprising him.
“Yes, it will.” He chanced a quick look at her and instantly regretted it. The wine had given her porcelain skin a soft flush. As he watched, she took another sip. Her lips parted as she exhaled, and all he could think about was how badly he wanted to taste that wine off her lips.
Instead, he covered the leftover salad, carried it to the fridge and then poured himself another glass of wine. Now he’d run out of busywork, so he’d have to figure out another way to keep his hands to himself. It really shouldn’t be this difficult, especially since he wanted to get to know her better. And of course, there was her engagement to Hamlin Harrington in the way as well.
“Did you happen to run into Patience at the center? You haven’t mentioned her. You two aren’t close?”
Her smile faded, making him regret asking. “Patience has made her feelings clear about my engagement, so I guess we’ve both been avoiding each other. But she apparently saw me at some point, since she told my father I was there. He was waiting for me in the parking lot when I left to come home.”
Ouch. He grimaced, imagining how that must have gone. Then he realized she’d used the word “home.” A bit of tentative joy flooded him, though he kept his expression neutral. “Is everything all right?”
She considered, and then shrugged. “You know what? I think so. He was irate and out of control, but I dealt with him. My father’s been bullying me for a really long time. He told me today he was doing me a favor by arranging my marriage to Hamlin Harrington, insinuating that I’d never find another man who would want me otherwise.”
Shocked, he took a step closer to her. “You know he’s wrong, right?” The compulsion to touch her had grown even stronger. If he hadn’t wanted so badly for them to get to know each other apart from just physically, plus prove his point with her fake engagement, he wouldn’t have been able to resist proving to her just how misinformed her father was.
When she didn’t answer, he forced himself to move away, pretending an urgent need to wipe down the kitchen counters. He knew he could tell her how badly he wanted her, but at this point, that went without saying. He knew she wanted him, too. Just not enough. Yet.
“I know he’s wrong,” she finally said, which allowed him to exhale in relief. “It bothers me, though. Seriously, what kind of man says something like that to his own daughter?”
“The kind who’s trying to manipulate her.” Since there was no more busywork to occupy him, he refilled both of their glasses. Luckily, he didn’t have to go anywhere and neither did she. A quick glance at the indoor/outdoor thermometer revealed the temperature was steadily dropping. November in South Dakota could often be like that—unpredictable. “How about I build a fire and we sit out there and talk?”
To his relief, she nodded. “Sounds perfect. And cozy. My life’s been short on that lately.”
Cozy. At least she hadn’t said “romantic.” It took every ounce of his self-control to keep amorous feelings buried. Layla made it so damn difficult.
Puttering around with the fireplace, he retrieved several pieces of wood from the pile outside. While he kept busy getting the fire going, he gave himself a stern talking-to. He could do this. Until she broke things off with Hamlin Harrington, he would do this. And it shouldn’t be this difficult. Despite his overwhelming attraction to Layla, she was definitely a woman worth getting to know more than physically.
Intimately. Another dangerous word. He gave himself a mental dressing-down. He need to chill out, relax and stop letting his libido govern his interactions with Layla.
With a fire roaring in the fireplace, Hunter took a seat in his chair, opposite where she sat on the couch. Though Goose normally joined him, the little traitor chose to snuggle with Layla instead. Judging from Layla’s contented expression, this suited her just fine. She stroked his dog’s fur, putting Goose in a catatonic sort of doggy bliss.
Hunter couldn’t help but think about how good it would feel to have her slender hands stroke him.
And there he went again. “Tell me more about your day,” he prompted, genuinely interested. He dealt with the K9 training center every day, so it would be interesting to hear the fresh view of someone not as familiar with it.
Brightening, she launched into more stories about some of the dogs and handlers she’d worked with. It helped that he knew exactly which dogs were which. He was able to explain some of the training methods when Layla asked. To his astonishment, the more they talked, the more he relaxed. Though desire simmered in the background, he found he wasn’t constantly battling himself.
This could work. Whether short term or long term, he could truly enjoy having Layla stay in his house. As yet, he didn’t allow himself to actually think of them as having any future. They couldn’t, not while she remained engaged to another man.
Layla swirled her wine in her glass and smiled at Hunter, who appeared unaware that he’d been glowering at her. She wasn’t sure exactly why, though she suspected it might have something to do with his declaration that anything physical between them would be off-limits as long as she was promised to another man.
Right now, with her entire body pulsing with longing for Hunter, she knew she’d need to be careful. As badly as she ached for him, she could promise just about anything if he’d touch her the way he had earlier.
Whoa. She took a tiny sip of wine, aware she’d need to switch to water after this glass. She could tell from the rosy glow and the way her thought process seemed a bit fuzzy that she’d had enough.
“What a wonderful night,” she mused out loud. “I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done for me.”
His gaze darkened, sending a shiver of need up her spine. And then, because she knew she had to do something to stop this runaway train before it completely jumped the track, she took a deep breath. “It’s really awesome having a friend like you.”
A stiffening of his jaw was his only reaction. Pretending not to notice, she continued. “Right now, friends are one thing I’m short on. I confess, it’s my fault. I let my blind loyalty to my job, my obsession with the company, take up every ounce of time in my life, leaving none for anything or anyone else. That’s going to change, starting now.”
After a moment, he nodded. “That sounds like the same kind of epiphany I had when I left Colton Energy to go to the police academy.”
Stunned, she realized he was right. Once again, she owed part of her realization to him. And while she knew he was right about her marrying Hamlin Harrington to save Colton Energy, she wasn’t ready to let go of her stupid hope just yet. While intellectually she understood she’d never be able to somehow earn her father’s love and respect, she didn’t know how to make herself stop trying. Or caring. On the outside, she might be a whip-smart, capable career woman, but on the inside lurked that little girl wanting her father to love her. She didn’t know how to make that little girl go away.
Pushing away her maudlin thoughts, she placed her wineglass on the table.
“What are you doing for Thanksgiving?” he asked, his voice casual. “It’s in three days, in case you didn’t realize.”
“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “Thanksgiving isn’t a big deal to my father, and my siblings are all leaving town for the holiday. I’m not close to the other branches of the family.” In other words, no one had extended an invitation to her to eat with them. Most likely they had no idea that her father always abandoned her.
“Still, you’re doing something, right?”
“I am. Maybe I’ll go see a movie or something. As long as the theater isn’t anywhere near a shopping center. I like to stay away from those crazy Black Friday crowds.”
He stared at her like he thought she’d lost her mind. “Aren’t you and your fiancé doing something—even for show?”
The slight emphasis he put on the word “fiancé” clearly reflected his distaste, which made her smile. “Hamlin and I don’t spend much time together,” she replied, aware of how awful that probably sounded. “Neither of us is pretending this engagement is something more than what it is. A business arrangement.” Odd, but actually saying the truth out loud made her want to cry. Instead, she swallowed hard and forged on. “What about you? What are your plans for the holiday?”
“Usually I eat over at the Larsons’,” he replied, frowning slightly as if still puzzling over her response. “Though if the twins are home, I’m not always welcome. Mae still invites me, of course. But it’s usually pretty uncomfortable if Noel and Evan are there.”
He gazed at the fire. “They don’t always go to Mae’s for the holidays, but when they do, they make it clear that I’m the interloper.”
She didn’t know why this shocked her, but it did. Learning other people also had dysfunctional families always surprised her. “Seriously? I mean, you lived with them, right?”
“Yeah, but they didn’t appreciate their grandmother taking me in. We were all teenagers, and I didn’t run with the same crowd.” He grimaced. “No matter what I did, they never warmed up to me. Eventually I stopped trying. Now we all just endure each other when we have to—especially since I’m a cop and they have reason to be wary of me. I try to make sure we don’t have to deal with one another often. The only exceptions I make are the holidays. I try to help Mae as much as I can. She’s getting older and can’t do as much as she used to.”
“I get that. Are you going this year?”
“I was thinking about inviting her over here and cooking the meal myself. That is, only if the twins weren’t planning on going to Mae’s. I won’t have them in my house.” He cocked his head, eyeing her. “I usually have to work part of the day anyway. But if I do have Thanksgiving dinner here, I’d love for you to join us.”
Touched, she had to swallow to get past the ache in her throat. “I’d like that,” she allowed. “But when will you know? It’s awful short notice, isn’t it? Three days?” Privately, she thought if Mae Larson hadn’t invited Hunter by now, she’d made other plans that didn’t include him.
“I know. I’ve been procrastinating, though I have already bought a turkey. It’s thawing in the fridge. The only problem is Goose. Mae claims to be allergic to dogs.”
Since he’d used the word claims, she figured that meant he didn’t believe her. “So put Goose in the bedroom while Mae’s here. That should take care of that, right?”
“It depends. She’s said she can’t even be around dog dander. No matter how much I clean, I doubt I can eliminate that 100 percent.”
“Probably not. What kind of allergic reaction does she have?”
“I don’t know.” Hunter shook his head. “She’s never been around Goose—or any other dog—that I know of. I’ve never seen her have any sort of reaction.”
She understood his skepticism. “If she truly was allergic to dog dander, wouldn’t it be on you and your clothes? She’d get some on her when she hugs you.”
“Exactly. As unimaginable as it might sound, I’m thinking maybe she just doesn’t like dogs. The twins managed to steal two dogs from the training center and had them for months before your sister Patience stole them right back. Noel and Evan must have had dander on them, too, but I saw the three of them together before that and Mae wasn’t sneezing up a storm. Yeah, I think she just doesn’t like dogs.”
The mournful tone in his voice, along with the sparkle in his blue eyes, made her smile. “That’s a shame.”
“Especially since Goose is part of the family.” He eyed his dog, currently curled into Layla’s hip. “I always just leave her at home when I go over there. But if I invite Mae over here, I’m not sure she’ll come.”
“I’d think since she’s older, she’d really appreciate someone else offering to cook the meal,” Layla commented.
Hunter laughed. “Oh, not Mae. She likes to be in control at all times. I’d have to insist she stay out of the kitchen entirely. Otherwise, she’d simply push me out of the way and take over.”
“Then why even try? Why not just do it the way you’ve always done and simply go to Thanksgiving dinner at her house? Even if she hasn’t mentioned it, maybe she’s just assuming you’ll go.”
He met and held her gaze, his intense. “Because I want to spend Thanksgiving with you. No one should be alone on a day that’s supposed to be all about family.”
Touched, she slowly shook her head. “There’s no need for you to worry about me. I’m used to spending holidays alone. It’s not that big a deal to me.”
Even she knew how pathetic that sounded. Except she’d never really minded, or so she’d always told herself. Until now. The prospect of spending Thanksgiving with Hunter made her feel dizzy with longing.
To hide this, she turned her attention to Goose, who’d fallen asleep. “She’s such a good dog.”
“Come with me,” Hunter said, surprising her. “Whether I cook a turkey here or go eat at Mae’s, join me. Please.” Stunned, she slowly raised her head to find him watching her with the same intense expression. “I mean it, Layla. I enjoy your company. Having you share the day with me would make it that much more special.”
Her mouth went dry. Not sure what to think—was this pity, or did he really mean it?—she searched for a response and came up short. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Say yes,” he urged.
She wanted to—oh, how badly she wanted to. But this seemed like the sort of thing people who were in a relationship did. “You confuse me,” she admitted. “You drew a line in the sand. As long as I’m engaged, we can’t—”
“We can’t be friends?” he interrupted. “Is that what you were going to say?”
Friends. It hadn’t been, and she suspected he knew that. Did he really think they could merely be friends, with the crazy attraction simmering between them? The more time they spent together, the better they got to know one another, the greater the chance that they would eventually end up in each other’s arms again. In fact, if she hung out at his place too long, she figured lovemaking would be inevitable.
Evidently, he didn’t see things the same way.
Friends. Though her chest felt tight, she straightened her shoulders. If he could do it, so could she. “I could really use a friend right now,” she admitted. “And I’ll think about your offer for Thanksgiving. Let me know once you’ve firmed up your plans.”
“Okay.” Still, he watched her, as if trying to get inside her head. “I’ll decide by tomorrow and let you know. Either way, I promise you I’ll tell Mae up front that you’re only a friend. That way, she won’t jump to any conclusions and start discussing weddings or babies with you.”
Just the thought of weddings or babies made her breath catch. She’d always put the notion of having a child into the same category as having a puppy—no time. Which wasn’t quite the same thing as no desire.
Hamlin had made it clear up front that he didn’t want any more children. He had a grown son, and that was all he needed. Since the idea of procreating with him made her skin crawl, she’d actually been relieved.
But somewhere deep inside herself, she’d always secretly longed to have children of her own one day. She wouldn’t go so far as to say she’d longed for the tired old white picket fence, husband and two kids, but pretty darn close. Except when she did think about it—which she hadn’t for a long, long time—she had dreamed of a partner with whom she shared equal responsibilities and dreams.
Somehow, without her realizing or even caring, her job had become her substitute for a rich, full life. She’d let everything else go—her friends, a social life and a chance at finding love—all in the name of Colton Energy.
And for what? A CEO who cared so little about the family business that he brought it to the brink of ruin with his spending? A father who cared so little about his own daughter that he was willing to broker her to a much-older man for money, just like he was selling a prize cow?
Hurt flooded her, along with embarrassment and shame. She’d been blind. Hunter had seen, Hunter had known. He’d been right all along. Her eyes stung with tears and her throat closed. What a fool she’d been.
Refocusing her attention on Goose, who opened one eye sleepily when Layla began petting her, she struggled to get her emotions back under control.
She’d never been one to spend a lot of time worrying about the future. One day at a time, with the exception of work, since she had to always plan ahead for marketing campaigns. At thirty-one years old, she’d figured she was still young enough to have lots of time to make major decisions. When her father had made his case for her to marry Hamlin Harrington, she’d been so eager to finally please him that she’d agreed without considering the ramifications for her entire future.
Now she understood she wasn’t willing to settle for a loveless marriage or a future with a man to whom she’d only be another possession he’d managed to acquire. She wanted more.
What this eye-opening realization might mean, she wasn’t sure. The one thing she knew for certain was if she chose to make a change, her life would be altered drastically.
As would her relationship—whether they were friends or otherwise—with Hunter.