After taking a shower, Tara headed downstairs.
Bo was waiting for her at the bottom. “Do you have a minute?” he asked.
“Sure.” He passed her his phone with a text message open. She read it and frowned. “Tires?”
“I don’t think it was Sal who broke into the carriage house.”
Her hand went to her throat. “That was right after you got here. Have you talked to her? Is there any way she could have learned about it and is trying to take credit for it?”
He shook his head. “Not from me. We haven’t spoken since October.”
She sagged against the railing. “I blamed Sal.”
“We both did. It could have been Stacie who followed you home. I talked to my Dad and he put it together. That was the same day she started texting me.”
“This is insane.” She slumped on the step and put her head in her hands.
“I’m sorry for bringing this down on you.” Bo sat next to her.
“It’s not your fault. I just have to figure out what to do. School starts next week.” A hot round of anxiety fired into her gut. Everything hinged on a successful semester. “I need to call that tire place. How will I get the car in? I can’t afford a tow.”
“I doubt they’re open today. But that was Stacie’s doing, so I’ll take care of it.”
“How?”
“That’s my problem.” Bo pulled her close. “It’s New Year’s. Is it okay if we put off reality and do something fun?”
She sank into his warmth. “I’m not very good at procrastinating, but I’ll give it a shot. What do you want to do?”
“Do you like football?”
“Yeah. But don’t quiz me on the finer points.”
“The Sugar Bowl is on today.”
“The sugar bowl’s in the kitchen.” Tara poked his ribs.
Bo jerked and shot her a warning glance. “Do not tickle me. I can’t be responsible for what happens.”
“Fair enough. I’ll save that for later, when you’re all healed up.”
“Save it for never.” He put her in a head-lock. “My sisters tortured me. I have psychological scars.”
Tara wrenched free. “Okay, okay. Is there enough testosterone here or should I call some friends?”
“I’d like it to be just us. We’ll be busy soon enough and these days will feel like a summer that ended too soon.”
“Will you check when the game is on? I’ll make some food.” She kissed Bo’s stubbled cheek.
“Sure.”
Tara went into the kitchen and dialed Sylvia, keeping an eye on Bo through the crack in the doorway.
As Tara left the room, Bo took in the gentle sway of her hips, the way her hair trailed down her back in rippling waves. He’d never wanted a woman so much. Never opened his heart to love so deeply. Somehow, he had to protect her.
He turned on the TV and looked at the guide. They had a few hours so he went into the kitchen where he found Tara pulling things out of cupboards. Taking a seat on a stool, he said, “What are you making?”
“You’ll see.”
“I hate waiting.”
“I know.” Tara raised a teasing brow and got back to work. She kept glancing at a piece of paper on the window-sill. Bo got up and moved toward it, but she raced over and stuffed it in her pocket. “No peeking.” She wound her arms around his neck. “Mr. Michaels, if you can’t stay in your seat, I’ll send you to your room.”
“Will you come with me?” He stole a kiss.
“I’m busy.”
He retreated to the stool. She sifted. Mixed. Poured. When the pan had been in the oven for several minutes, the smell wafted over and he knew exactly what it was. The aromas of almond and chocolate made his mouth water. “You called my mom.”
She gave him a wide-eyed innocent look.
By the time the game started, the coffee table was laden with food, Grandma Michaels’ chocolate cake being the most impressive, with a thick layer of frosting on top. Bo sat in the recliner with the footrest propped up. “I feel like a king.”
Kneeling next to him, Tara smiled and took his hand in both of hers. “We had to leave the park in such a rush last night ... I had more to say.” Her eyes moved over his. “You’re just what I needed. You dismantled my wall.”