His Secret

  I considered telling him that I wasn’t here for him. That I didn’t want to know him either. That this land belonged to my parents and if he wanted to be alone, he should get his ass off their land and leave me alone.

  After all this shit, however, I felt like poking the bear just for the hell of it.

  I looked down at the hand still grasping my wrist, then back up at him. “And?”

  Eleven

  Blake

  Why couldn’t I leave her alone?

  She’d been walking away, and all she’d taken with her were two little twigs off a couple of pines that I wasn’t even sure belonged to me. Why had I gone after her? Why was I talking more to her than I had to anyone in years?

  Was it just because she’d fired back with that fuck comment? She’d caught me off guard, sure, but that shouldn’t have been enough to get me to do something so out of character.

  Except that comment had made me think about fucking. Not what’s-her-name from Miami. No, I was thinking about fucking the beautiful dark-haired woman whose feathers I couldn’t seem to ruffle.

  Except I had. That comment about her store had ruffled her. That stupid, thoughtless comment that I never should have said and didn’t really mean. I’d always hated it when people made assumptions about me based on what they thought they knew about me and about my family, but that hadn’t stopped me from doing the same thing to her. She should have called me out on it. Sworn at me. Called me every name in the book. Instead, she’d gotten a little snarky, but I’d deserved more than snark.

  Then she’d started testing me, and I knew she was doing it on purpose. No one provoked me intentionally, especially not someone who most likely knew my reputation for not liking people. But that hadn’t stopped her. In fact, the more annoyed I got, the more it seemed to amuse her.

  Why the fuck couldn’t I leave her alone?

  I hadn’t meant to grab her arm, not really. I’d just wanted her to stop walking away from me. I kept telling her to go, but I didn’t actually want her to go. I wanted her to keep sparring with me. I wanted to see how far I could push her.

  Then my hand was wrapped around her wrist, and she was close enough for me to see into the depths of those deep brown eyes of hers. Close enough to know that she didn’t wear perfume, but rather that she smelled like herbs and other plants…and pine.

  “I bought this place because it was private. I don’t invite people out here because I don’t want people out here. I don’t know you. I don’t want to know you. I want you to leave me alone.” The words came rushing out, but not all of them were true. Or, rather, they weren’t all completely true. The things I’d always wanted were at odds with what she made me want.

  Want. Maybe that’s all this was. I wanted her. She was strong, and not only physically. She didn’t freak out or act like she was frightened of me, not even when I’d yelled, which made me wonder if she was the sort of woman who could listen to what I wanted without judging, who was strong enough to not only take it but give as good as she got.

  “And?”

  For a moment, I thought she was starting a sentence, but then I realized that was all she was going to say. Any other woman would’ve slapped me, yelled at me, done something to make sure I understood how far out of line I was. Not her. She didn’t even pull away from me. But one look in her eyes and I could tell that she wasn’t holding back because she feared me. I could see she wasn’t happy with me, but there was no fear.

  My gaze dropped from her eyes to her lips, and for the second time in the last few minutes, I wondered what they would feel like against my mouth, my skin, my cock.

  Fuck.

  Just the thought was enough to get me half-hard, but it wasn’t enough to make me step back.

  That should have been my first warning to stay away. Any time I thought a woman could possibly mean more to me than sex, I walked away. I didn’t fuck women I found obnoxious, but I also didn’t fuck women I thought were fascinating either, and that if there was a single word to describe how I felt about Brea at that moment, it was fascinated.

  I wanted to shake sense into her, but I also wanted to kiss her breathless. I wanted to leave her gasping and wanting more. Would she melt against me, her mouth soft and pliant? Or would she try to take control of the kiss? What would she sound like if I kissed her, if I bit her lip? Would she even let me kiss her or would she stop me before I could get that far? Would she tell me no or push me away? Either way, I’d respect her decision.

  And that was when I realized that I still had ahold of her arm.

  I released it, guilt flooding me. “Sorry,” I muttered. “I wasn’t thinking.”

  “Apology accepted,” she said, straightening her sleeve.

  She was going to walk away, and I couldn’t let her go with that being my last impression. I didn’t know why, but I didn’t want her to think I was the sort of asshole who’d hurt her. An asshole who yelled and snarled like a child throwing a temper tantrum, yeah, but I couldn’t stand it if she thought I was an abusive asshole.

  Of course, instead of politely offering to walk her to her car, or telling her she was welcome to come back, I thought it was a great idea to ask her to dinner. And I couldn’t even get that right.

  “Have dinner with me tonight.”

  I’d meant to make it a request, but of course, it came out as a demand. I’d never been charming like my brother Slade, but this was simply pathetic. What made it even worse is that I didn’t even know why I wanted to have dinner with her. I didn’t really do the whole ‘take a woman on a date’ thing. It was always sex, nothing more.

  Apologies came in the form of flowers or cards, and that would’ve been fine. An offer to look around my property might’ve put me in a better light.

  Dinner? Dinner was a date, and I didn’t date.

  Her head was tilted to the side, her expression somber, like she was studying me, seeing deeper inside me than anyone else ever had.

  “All right,” she said. She took a step toward me, then moved up on her toes so she could kiss my cheek. “I’ll be at your place at six. I’m a vegetarian, but I don’t mind if you eat meat.”

  And with that, she turned and walked away, leaving me staring after her and wondering just what the hell, had just happened.

  Twelve

  Brea

  While I’d never been an overly cautious person, I didn’t generally consider myself impulsive either. I was structured and careful when it came to work, and I’d always made sure that I played things safe when it came to dating.

  First dates were always in public, and often the next couple as well. I took my time to get to know the men I went out with before things progressed to spending time alone. I considered myself a good judge of character but also knew that even the wisest and most perceptive person could be wrong.

  Which was why I couldn’t quite believe that I was going to Blake’s house for dinner only a few hours after he’d emphatically told me to get off his property. More than once.

  I knew why I was doing it though. I’d seen something in his eyes when he’d grabbed my arm. He hadn’t been trying to hurt me. He was hurting, whether he acknowledged it or not. The same thing that kept him so isolated also kept him telling me to leave, even though I could see that it wasn’t what he really wanted. He wanted a connection. He might not be the sort of man who liked crowds, but there was a part of him that didn’t want to be alone.

  However, I’d have been lying to myself if I didn’t admit the physical aspect of it all. I’d never had such a visceral reaction to a man. Ever.

  Which explained the extra care I’d taken when getting dressed for this evening. I’d selected one of my favorite dresses, a long, flowing one that reached nearly to my ankles. A rich burnt orange color, it did for my coloring what the cut did for my figure. Since it was sleeveless, I took along a warm wool shawl that looked better with it than a coat would have. Even though snow wasn’t entirely out of the realm of possibility, I risked my flats because they
were the most comfortable shoes I owned. I had a feeling I would want to be as sure of myself as possible and being comfortable was the best way to accomplish that.

  As I pulled up the long driveway, I found myself admiring the sprawling ranch from a distance and then more closely. It was gorgeous, and while I didn’t know much about architecture, I was confident that he hadn’t done much in the way of changes. This was the sort of place that I would’ve seen in some old Western on TV growing up and thought about how much fun it would be to live there. As an adult, I understood how much work must come with a ranch like this, but I still thought it looked like fun.

  It wasn’t until I was parking behind his truck that a thought hit me, and I frowned.

  Based on the gossip I’d heard around town, he didn’t have any kids, and I didn’t think he’d ever been married. He did some sort of carpentry or something like that, and I’d never heard anything about him having any employees who lived out here. I didn’t think he even had any friends. What, then, was the point of him having a house that size? The land I understood, but why would anyone want such a massive house if he didn’t intend to have it filled with people?

  There was a lot I didn’t understand about Blake Hunter. This was just one more thing to add to the list I’d been making for the past few hours. The biggest question, however, was whether he would answer any of them, or if I would leave in a couple hours without any more knowledge than I had right now.

  Only one way to find out, I supposed.

  I was still a couple yards from the door when it opened, and Blake stepped outside. My feet kept moving even though my brain had ceased telling them what to do. It’d pretty much stopped completely the moment it’d registered Blake.

  He wore a pair of dark pants that could have been either jeans or slacks, but the material didn’t matter as much as how he looked in them. Damn was the only word that came to mind. His shirt was short-sleeved and just tight enough to show off all those muscles I’d seen on display earlier. His clothes, however, weren’t even the best part.

  He was smiling.

  Sort of.

  It wasn’t the sort of open, full smile like the ones my parents usually wore, but more like the smile of someone who didn’t do it very often.

  “Hi.” He shifted his weight, looking uncomfortable, whether because of his clothes, me, or the smiling, I couldn’t tell.

  “Hi.” I smiled at him, hoping to put him at ease. “You have an absolutely beautiful home.”

  “Thanks.”

  He stepped back a bit to give me room to enter while still holding the door, and I caught a whiff of that same clean-soap smell I’d noticed before. It was tempting to linger, but I didn’t want to make him regret asking me to dinner. The nerves I’d managed to avoid for the last few hours appeared all at once, making me wonder if I’d made a mistake. I usually believed in trusting my gut, but everyone made mistakes at one time or another.

  I really hoped he wasn’t mine.

  “Want me to take that?” He pointed at my wrap, and I handed it over. He scowled at it as he tried to figure out how to get it on a hanger, but I didn’t step in to help him. I had a feeling he’d rather be annoyed than feel like I had to come to his rescue in his own home.

  Once he figured out how to get it to stay, he went off to his right, and I followed. After a few steps, he still hadn’t said anything else, but I was more interested in the mouth-watering aroma permeating the air.

  “I made stuffed peppers, breadsticks, and a fruit salad,” he said finally. Even without raising his voice, the tone had a roughened quality to it. Not like he was a smoker – he didn’t smell like he smoked – but more like his voice didn’t get much use and he’d already gone over his limit for the day. “You said vegetarian, not vegan, right? ‘Cuz the peppers have cheese in them.”

  “Yes,” I said. “Vegetarian. Dairy is fine. Thank you.”

  He shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal, but to me it was. If he’d really been as much of a jackass as he’d come across this afternoon, he wouldn’t have cared about whether he got it right.

  Honestly, I’d been expecting him to order in his favorite meal, and if it contained meat, he’d maybe make sure there were enough side dishes I could eat. I hadn’t expected him to cook, and especially not a meal like that.

  I was glad to know that my first impression, hadn’t been all of who he was.

  The kitchen was just as beautiful as the rest of the house, a wonderful combination of modern and rustic with stainless steel appliances alongside wooden counters and cabinets. A massive garden window took up a quarter of the southern wall, and a table sat up against it, matching chairs on three of the four sides. The scrollwork on the edge of the table was a lovely intricate pattern I’d never seen before.

  “I thought we could eat in here,” he said. “I have a dining room, but it seemed silly to use it since there’s two of us and the table in there is huge.”

  “This is perfect,” I said honestly. “What can I do to help?”

  He looked pleasantly surprised by my offer, and I wondered what sort of women he usually brought home that they wouldn’t extend that common courtesy.

  “I wasn’t sure what you’d like to drink,” he said. “I usually have a beer, but I didn’t know if you’d be okay with that.” He flushed, which surprised and pleased me. “I mean, I didn’t know what your opinion is about alcohol. If you drink wine or whatever.”

  I smiled and crossed to the fridge. “I’m actually more of a beer person than a wine person.”

  Another look of surprise. “Really?”

  “Really.” I opened the fridge. “I’ve spent most of my life traveling, which means I’ve sampled alcohol all over the world, but in my mind, nothing beats an American made beer.”

  I took out two bottles and carried them over to the table, feeling his eyes on me as I went. I wasn’t unaccustomed to men staring at me, but with Blake, it was different than anything else I’d experienced. The intensity of his gaze felt like it was boring a hole right through me, like he could see more of me than I wanted to be seen.

  “Bottle opener?” I asked.

  I heard a drawer open, and by the time I turned, he was right there. I tilted my head back to look up at him, and he didn’t look away even as he reached around me for the beer. He opened them both, keeping his arms around me the whole time. Neither of us said anything, but I didn’t think either of us needed to. The electricity between us said enough.

  He went back to the food, and I tried not to be disappointed that he hadn’t touched me.

  “The table’s beautiful. Did it come with the house?” I congratulated myself on keeping my voice even despite how wobbly my knees had become.

  “I made it.”

  I turned around. “Seriously?”

  One corner of his mouth quirked up in a smile. “I thought you knew who I was.”

  I opened my mouth to respond, then realized I couldn’t actually say what I’d intended to say. Not without sounding like a snob or a bitch.

  “It’s okay,” he said. “I know my reputation.”

  “The only thing I’ve ever heard about what you do is that you work with wood. I didn’t know what that meant.”

  He gestured toward the table. “I make furniture.” He went back to putting the stuffed peppers on a pair of plates. “Among other things. I do blacksmithing too.”

  He said it so casually that if I hadn’t known the skills it took to do either of those jobs, I wouldn’t have understood how impressive it was.

  “I’d love to see more of your work.”

  He glanced up, a pleased look in his eyes. Something told me that he didn’t have the opportunity to share what he did with anyone except customers. Or maybe it wasn’t that he didn’t have opportunities, but that he purposefully kept things to himself. Either way, I was glad the idea of showing me made him happy.

  “Speaking of work,” he said as he brought the plates over to the table. “I need to apologize for what I
said about your store. Just because I don’t understand something doesn’t mean I can make judgments about it.”

  I didn’t want to dismiss his apology as unnecessary, because he had been insulting, but I also didn’t want to make a big deal about it either. “Thank you,” I said. “I’d be happy to explain things if you’d like.”

  He went back to the fridge and took out a glass bowl of various kinds of fruit. As he brought it to the table, his eyes met mine. “I’d like that very much.”

  I hadn’t had a date like this ever. I’d explained to him about what I did in the store and how to make sure homeopathic remedies were the real thing. He told me about blacksmithing. He asked about school, and so did I, and we both talked about why we’d chosen to forgo the college option.

  We steered clear of any talk of family or anything overly personal. It was only a first date, after all, and our initial meeting hadn’t exactly been pleasant. Even though we didn’t talk about it, my intuition told me he felt the same way I did about tonight. We were keeping it simple, not complicating it with all the things that eventually became a part of a relationship. If this became more than a first date, we’d see where to go from there.

  Right now, I was happy to be standing next to him at the sink, washing the few dishes that couldn’t go in the dishwasher. He was drying and putting them away since I didn’t know where they went, and we didn’t need to talk to do any of that.

  The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was charged. Each time I handed something off to Blake, our hands brushed, and I felt a pleasant jolt. I’d experienced near-instant attraction, but this was beyond me simply thinking he was attractive. It was a deep, primal tug in his direction, and the longer I stayed, the greater the chance I would act on it.

  After finishing the last of the dishes, I reached for the hand towel and dried my hands, but before I could ask about what we were going to do next, I felt him step up behind me. I went still, closing my eyes as I absorbed the warmth radiating from his body.