“I . . . I know it’s girls’ stuff, but could I . . . can I keep Mom’s jewelry box?” Ben asked, tracing the flying blackbirds carved into the top.
Slider crouched down and looked his son in the eye. “You can have absolutely anything you want.”
“Okay, Dad,” he whispered, peering back at him with suddenly glassy eyes. Then his little face absolutely crumpled.
“Aw, B, come here,” he said, hauling Ben into his chest. The kid burst into tears, tears like he hadn’t cried since the long-ago conversation when he’d finally understood that Kim was never coming home again. If Slider thought he was a wreck now, it was nothing compared to how trashed he’d been back then—from the rawness of her death, from the pain of watching her deteriorate, from the bitter poison of having to keep her infidelity secret, from the acidic curiosity of never having learned the name of the man she’d cheated with. In the midst of all that, had he been there enough for his boys in their grief?
Damnit, he wasn’t sure he wanted the answer to that question.
But maybe it wasn’t too late to be there now.
“Just let it out, Benji. It’s okay to be sad that Mom’s gone. It’s okay to miss her. And it’s okay to talk about her and want her things nearby,” he managed around the lump in his throat. He peered up at Sam, but his older son was too studiously ignoring them as he picked up Cinderella and wrapped her in paper.
Finally, Ben pulled away, and Slider had to help him dry his face because the cast prevented him from reaching both eyes. “Your whiskers are scratchy,” he said.
Slider gave the kid a smile and tugged at his beard. “Not a fan, are you?”
He shook his head. “You look like one of those Duck Dynasty men.”
Sam snorted. “Oh, my God, he’s right.”
Slider peered up at his older son. “Now you’re just ganging up on me.”
“Deal with it, old man,” Sam said with a smirk. And just then, Sam reminded him of Cora. Trying to squirm out of his questions with humor. Except Sam’s defense wasn’t humor, it was sarcasm and feigned apathy.
Still, Slider barked out a laugh at the comment. And, damn, it felt good. Just joking around with them the way he used to. A million years ago . . . “Why don’t we break for lunch. And then we can run to the store and buy a new mattress set for the bed in here.”
Sam fingered a scratch on the pale yellow wall near the light switch. “Maybe we should paint, too.”
“Yeah!” Ben said, struggling to carry the jewelry box under one arm. “Wonder what Cora’s favorite color is? Maybe it’s blue. ’Member she thought that was the coolest color for my case?”
Standing in the doorway, Slider peered back into the clean room, now empty of its ghosts. Or, at least, most of them. “I don’t know,” he said, “but that’s a good idea.”
Over a lunch of cold-cuts sandwiches, chips, and some of Haven’s cookies that Cora had brought over for them, the boys were abuzz with ideas of things they should do for Cora’s room. They didn’t just want fresh paint, they wanted to raid Target for every pretty, girly thing they could find.
“Maybe we should get throw pillows for her bed, too. Don’t girls like that stuff?” Sam asked.
“I think she needs a pink beanbag chair,” Ben said.
“You’re the one who wants a beanbag chair, doofus,” Sam said. “Besides, what if she doesn’t like pink?”
“What if she doesn’t like throw pillows?” Ben shot back.
“Okay,” Slider said, chuckling. “We’ll pick up some new stuff at Target. But maybe we should let Cora do the actual decorating. It’s her room, after all.” That seemed to satisfy them. But there was still the question of what color this theoretical new stuff should be.
Debating, he pulled out his phone and texted Dare. Can you ask Haven what Cora’s favorite color is?
He might as well have typed, Hey Dare, I know I barely talk to you anymore, but can you do me a solid and play go-between with your girlfriend to answer a completely ridiculous question for me?
Three little dots appeared, evidence that Dare was replying. And then they disappeared. Reappeared, then disappeared again. His cell rang.
“That complicated, huh?” Slider said by way of answering.
“Slider, it’s Haven,” she said, amusement plain in her voice. “And, yes, it’s a little complicated, which is why I’m calling.”
“Tell him I wasn’t typing all that shit out,” Dare called out in the background loud enough for Slider to hear.
“Sorry, ignore him,” she said, chuckling. “Can I ask what it’s for? Because if you’re talking clothes, she really likes blacks and grays and dark blues, but if you’re talking flowers, she adores pink and yellow. Roses, carnations, gerbera daisies, you can’t go wrong with those colors. Just not the typical red.”
Flowers? Why the hell did Haven think he’d want to know about flowers?
“Uh, what if I wanted to paint a room for her,” he said, feeling way too damn exposed.
“Oh!” She laughed. “I’m so excited that she’s going to be your nanny, Slider. She’s so good at taking care of other people, and she adores your boys.”
“Yeah,” he said, clearing his throat. “So, what do you think?”
“Man, this is a lot of pressure. I’d say definitely not pink or purple, because that would be too like her old room at home. I think she’d like blue, though. I think she’d like it a lot.”
“Blue. Okay, sure. Thanks, Haven.”
“Blue! See, I knew it!” Ben said. Slider gave him a thumbs-up.
“No problem,” Haven was saying. “Hold on, here’s Dare.”
“You’re painting a room for Cora?” he asked. Slider could almost imagine the look in his eyes, observing all kinds of things you didn’t really want anyone else seeing, but Dare always saw anyway.
“Yeah. Just freshening things up for her,” he said matter-of-factly.
“Want help?” he asked.
That wasn’t what Slider expected at all. He had a kneejerk no on the tip of his tongue, but if he was going to start doing a better job with the people in his life, that had to include his brothers, too, didn’t it? And there was no better time to start than now . . .
So . . .
“If you don’t mind, that would be great. But I’m doing this today. I know that might be too last minute—”
“Count us in.”
Which was how, three hours later, a painting party got under way in Cora’s bedroom and bathroom, with Dare, Haven, him, and his boys all working on different parts of the walls, ceiling, and trim. They’d pushed all the furniture to the center of the room, and the new bed was covered in bags of what Ben called their loot from Target.
Music playing from Dare’s cell phone, the open windows welcoming in the fall afternoon breeze, and the sound of everyone’s chatter and laughter made the house feel alive in a way it hadn’t in so long, as if asking Cora to move in was rousing the old farmhouse from a long slumber.
Maybe it was waking Slider up, too.
When they were done, the men cleaned up the tape, plastic, and paint supplies, while Haven and Ben unpacked the Target bags and took a load of new bedding down to the washing machine.
“Hey, Sam,” Dare said, “would you mind grabbing me a cold soda from the fridge?”
“No problem,” Sam said.
“Wash your hands before you touch anything,” Slider said.
“You mean, like this?” On a laugh, Sam lunged at him and managed to grasp the bottom of Slider’s beard, leaving a swipe of blue in his wake.
“What the hell—heck—ya little monster,” Slider said with a disbelieving laugh. He pulled the kid into a playful headlock. It wasn’t a hug. But it was one of the first times in Slider’s recent memory that the two of them had touched.
Sam laughed. “Now will you finally get rid of that thing?”
“No way, I’m leaving it blue and scruffy and walking you into your classroom tomorrow morning,” Slider said, gri
nning as Sam groaned and got away. And then he disappeared to get Dare’s drink.
Leaving Slider alone with Dare, who was looking at him like he had three heads in addition to a blue beard.
“What?” Slider asked.
Dare shook his head, the expression on his face like he was debating, and then he held out a hand. “Welcome back, brother.”
The words lodged an immediate knot in Slider’s throat. Slider grasped his friend’s hand, and it felt a whole lot like a lifeline. “I’m not sure if I’m all the way back yet. Or if I’ll ever be.”
Nodding, Dare didn’t let go. “I get that. But you’ll never get anywhere if you don’t try. And the man I’m looking at is trying, and it’s damn good to see.”
Sam came flying back into the room. “Here you go.”
“Thanks, buddy,” Dare said, dropping Slider’s hand and taking the can. And then their focus was back on home improvement, as if Dare hadn’t just made two years of Slider’s bullshit okay with a single handshake.
That night, the boys refused to go to bed until Cora’s room was all put back together again. The blue walls were still drying, but that didn’t keep them from rearranging the furniture, making up the bed, putting down the new area rug, and stacking fresh towels in the linen closet.
“Think Cora’s gonna like it?” Slider asked, really hoping she would.
“Yeah,” Sam said.
“Me too,” Ben agreed. “Today was fun, Dad. I liked painting and having Dare and Haven visit.”
Slider had, too. And that surprised him, this apparently new ability to pull his head out of his ass. “It was fun, wasn’t it?”
Both boys nodded.
“I think . . . I think we’re going to try to have more fun around here. What do you say?”
“Yeah!” Ben said with a jump that proved his cast held him back not at all.
Sam was more reserved, giving a whatever nod and shrug that Slider didn’t buy at all. He cared, he just didn’t think he should show it. What was it going to take to get through to him? Slider wasn’t sure, but today felt like a beginning.
And that was more than he thought he’d ever have again.
Cora hopped into Slider’s pickup truck where it had waited outside the clubhouse for her a hundred times, but this time felt different. In less than a week, he wouldn’t be picking her up here anymore because she’d be living with him.
“Hey,” she said, unable to suppress her excitement.
Sitting behind the steering wheel, he turned toward her. “Hey.”
Which was when Cora did a full-on, walk-into-a-sign, gobsmacked kind of double take. “Your beard. Your hair.”
His face—which she could actually see—slid into a slow smile.
And, baby Jesus in the manger, Slider with a fresh haircut and a clean shave was not just handsome . . . he was panty-droppingly hot. Like, she was half tempted to reach down and make sure her panties were still on, despite the jeans she wore. His hair was shorter on the sides and longer on the top, long enough that she could tell he’d raked at it with his fingers, which totally made her fingers jealous. He had cheekbones for days, and a dimple. A freaking dimple. Just one. But that smile showed it off enough that she couldn’t help but stare. “You have a dimple.”
He chuffed out a laugh. “I know. I’d almost forgotten.”
“Did you just laugh?” She reached for the handle. “I’m sorry, I think I’m in the wrong truck. I’m waiting for Slider . . .”
He rolled his eyes. “Giving me a hard time is not part of the job.”
She couldn’t help but laugh. “Have you met me before?”
Shaking his head, he put the truck in drive. But Cora couldn’t stop staring.
“Look that bad?” he finally asked.
“No. No, not at all,” she said, her face going hot at being called out. “It looks good. I didn’t mean to stare, but I—”
“You never have to apologize for looking at me, Cora.”
She blinked. Blinked again. What the hell was she supposed to say to that? Well, good. Better get used to it, Slider. Because you’re about a gabillion times hotter than I ever imagined. Can I lick you now?
Oh, my God. It was everything Cora could do to not bury her face in her hands at how far south her thoughts had just turned. And she was about to move in with this man.
The man who was her boss, with the kids, with the broken heart.
“Um, what did the boys think?” she finally asked.
“Liked it,” he said. “Said I looked younger. Apparently, they felt I’d gone Duck Dynasty on them.”
Chuckling, she nodded, drinking in her fill of him again since he’d given her permission. His face in profile now was killer. Not just because of the high cheekbones, but because of his angular jaw, too. And the kids weren’t wrong—getting rid of the beard had taken at least ten years off his face. Although maybe it was the smile that was doing that. Either way, something seemed different about Slider, and it wasn’t just the makeover.
Back at the Evans house, Cora had barely walked into the living room before the boys each grabbed a hand and pulled her up the steps.
“What’s going on?” she asked with a laugh.
But Slider just shook his head and followed them up, something close to a smile playing around his lips. Full lips. Lips that had a little scar on the bottom right that distracted her to the point of wanting to taste it.
God, what was wrong with her?
But she didn’t have a chance to answer that, because just then, the boys tugged her to a closed door at the end of the hall and told her to open it.
Whatever it was, she’d never been in this room before, so she opened it like a clown might jump out at her.
Sam reached in and flicked on the light switch. And all Cora could do was gasp. The smell of fresh paint hung lightly on the air, which meant . . . they’d done this for her.
“Go in!” Ben said, giving her a little push.
Cora walked in like it was a museum. Quietly. Reverently. Not touching a thing. Her gaze went from the big bed, covered in a beautiful and fun blue and white comforter with a kind of bohemian medallion-and-floral design, to the lamps with their pretty crystal bases, to the soft-looking, cream-white area rug with a light blue design all through it. A bay window looked out onto the side yard and a cornfield beyond, and another window offered a view of the front yard, together making the room bright and cheerful.
“There’s a bathroom over here, too,” Ben said, skipping through the room and turning on the light inside.
“Really?” she asked, crossing to peer into the adjoining room. Larger than the hall bathroom the three of them shared, it had a separate shower and tub, a big linen closet, and double sinks. “This is all for me?”
She turned to find all three Evans men nodding, and each looking prouder than the last.
Slider gave a nervous shrug as he glanced around the space. And, man, all his raw masculinity was ten times more potent when you could see his handsomely rugged face. “If you don’t like the color, or anything, we can—”
“I love it. I just can’t believe you did all this. It’s beautiful. It’s the most beautiful bedroom I’ve ever had,” she said, blinking away threatening tears. It was just that no one had ever done something like this for her before. She’d left their house midmorning yesterday, which meant they’d spent all day yesterday creating a place for her, just like Slider said he would. It really touched her.
Ben scrambled awkwardly up onto the bed. “You gotta try the mattress. It’s new.” He bounced as much as he could with one arm in a cast.
“New?” she said, sliding up next to Ben. “I’m going to have to pay you all back for—”
“No way,” Slider said. “This is the least we can do. You’re our guest, and we want you to be happy here.”
He nailed her with a stare that stole her breath. Because she believed him, and it made her feel hopeful and valued. Cared for. Wanted, for the first time in so very long.
Maybe ever.
“Well . . .” She flopped back onto the bed, and a giggling Ben flopped back next to her. “I think I’m going to be so happy here you guys just might never be able to get rid of me.”
Chapter 9
“We brought a bottle of champagne, strawberries, and dipping chocolate,” Haven said when she and Cora walked through the front door of Maverick and Alexa’s house, “because we have things to celebrate.” Maverick was gone on the same club business Dare was, so Alexa had proposed a girls’ night in on Tuesday since Cora didn’t have to babysit. They’d readily agreed.
“That sounds fantastic,” Alexa said, welcoming them into the lakeside cottage out on the edge of the Raven Riders’ property. Not many of them lived on club lands, but this house had once been Bunny’s, the founder’s sister, and now belonged to Maverick. “I also made a seven-layer dip, salsa, and a big pot of chili. So I hope you’re hungry.”
When they’d served everything up, they settled around the table in front of a window that looked out at the lake. From the cat climber a few feet away, Alexa’s sweater-wearing Sphinx cat Lucy watched them.
“Okay, what are we toasting first?” Cora asked. “Definitely Alexa’s engagement.” That got the first enthusiastic round of toasts. The bubbles in the champagne tickled Cora’s nose.
“Are you setting a date?” Haven asked as she scooped some dip.
Alexa shook her head. “Not yet. But maybe next spring. I’m holding out hope that my mom could still get better, and I’d like all the stuff with Grant to be entirely behind us.” She shuddered a little when she mentioned her ex’s name.
“How about a toast to the fact that the people who hurt us will never be able to do it again,” Haven said, raising her glass.
“Hell, yes,” Alexa said. They all clinked glasses, and Cora joined in the toast, even though she felt a little guilty that they didn’t know all the ways she’d been hurt. No one did.
“You okay, Cora?” Haven asked.
“Oh, yeah. Sorry. Just daydreaming.” She forced a smile. “I understand I have you to thank for my pretty new blue bedroom.”