A Date with the Other Side (Cuttersville #1)(19)
Author: Erin McCarthy

Sticking her nose in the air, Jessie pulled out her own righteous voice. “I have no intention of butting into my grown granddaughter’s life. If she wants to spend the night with Boston, then that is her decision and I completely respect that.”

After all, Shelby sleeping with Boston had been Jessie’s plan from the get-go.

After thirty minutes of watching Shelby pace, Boston figured he had another two hours max before someone came around looking for her. He meant to take advantage of every single remaining second.

Lying on the bed had been a good move. Shelby’s face had turned as red as a traffic light when he’d stretched out across the ridiculous bedspread that had nearly maimed him. He had been so irritated with the sight of the spread the week before, he had balled it up and tossed it over the rocking chair in the corner to prevent any future incidents. But then Mary the housekeeper had come along and put it right back on the bed.

Normally he approved of efficiency, but in this case he would have preferred if she’d left his bed rumpled and unmade.

Not talking to Shelby had been a smart move too. She looked irritated with him, which was a big improvement over scared silly. As he’d lain on the bed, eyes half closed, he’d noticed her glance over at him a half-dozen times, occasionally muttering under her breath.

When she did it again, he asked, “Did you say something, Shelby?”

“No,” came the petulant reply.

Boston patted the bed next to him. “There’s nothing to worry about, you know. Just have a seat over here and keep me company while we wait.” He gave her a smile. “Maybe you can tell me all about the Blond Man this time.”

It occurred to him maybe he should be focusing less energy on coaxing Shelby to relax, and more energy on getting them out of there first, and worrying about the paranormal invasion in his house second.

After all, he wasn’t supposed to even like Shelby Tucker. But he did, which was why he had avoided her for the last five days. He had recognized his feelings for what they were, and they had scared him far more than any door-slamming spirit.

He liked her. Her quick mind, her direct way of speaking, her loyalty to her family, her robust deep-from-the-gut laugh. And her body. Oh, yeah. He liked that.

Shelby blew her hair out of her eyes. “You really aren’t scared, are you?”

“No, and I’m surprised you are. I’m sure there is a completely logical explanation for all of this, like drafts or electrical surges or something. And even if there isn’t, it has no bearing on my life. Inconvenient, maybe, but that can be dealt with.”

“You like everything neat and tidy, don’t you?”

Though she made it sound like a flaw, he nodded. “I control my life, not the other way around.”

Except for this little detour to Cuttersville. But he would get himself back out of here, he was sure of it.

“So it doesn’t bother you that we’re stuck in your ten-by-fourteen bedroom, with the window stuck shut, the door locked, and the sun about to set in an hour?”

“Nope.” Hell, when put like that, it sounded even better.

A sunset, dusky lamplight spilling across the old Victorian bed, Shelby underneath him. Yes, it was sounding better and better.

Because he wanted Shelby Tucker, despite the complications that could ensue. The opportunity was just too convenient to pass up. And if he was upfront with Shelby about the fact that he was leaving as soon as Brett gave the word, they could enjoy a few weeks of dating and whatever naked pleasure that might bring.

Shelby sat down in the rocking chair, all the way across the room from him. Too far away for him to touch. “So what do you do at Samson, Boston? And how’d you end up in Cuttersville? I don’t think you’re here by choice.”

He laughed. “What gave it away?”

Shelby grinned back at him, setting the chair in motion before tucking her feet up under her knees. “Oh, I don’t know. The shoes, the clothes, the look of horror on your face.”

“And here I thought I was hiding my feelings.” He propped himself up with one hand. “It’s just part of my job to check out various Samson holdings.” Though he’d never been banished before. That still infuriated him, the why of Brett’s decision.

He had started to wonder if there was someone else working on Brett, influencing him. A rival of Boston’s for the position as Brett’s right-hand man.

“This town needs Samson, you know. Half the people here work at the factory, and they’ll starve if it were to ever close down.”

Boston saw the concern in Shelby’s eyes, felt her anxiety for her friends and neighbors, and he didn’t have the heart to play the game with her. He didn’t want to hide his cards from her the way he had with Phil and Bob. “I’m not here to close the factory, Shelby, even though it does have slightly lower productivity than some of the other plants.”

She leaned against the back of the rocker. “Well, you can fix that, then. Get everyone here to speed up so the factory stays.”

He supposed he could, though until that moment his concern had been strictly with getting himself out, not ensuring the plant’s viability.

“Part of my job is to assess the plant’s weaknesses, that’s true.”

“Did you grow up in Chicago?”

“Yes. In a sleek modern condo downtown.” It had been cold and empty most of the time except for the revolving door of nannies and housekeepers. The one constant from his childhood had been Al, the doorman.

“You must hate this creaky fussy old house.” Shelby waved her hand at the robin’s-egg blue bedroom wall.

“Actually, I like it, believe it or not. It’s solid, a home. My parents’ condo was sterile.”

Shelby smiled at him, a genuine flashing of teeth that settled all over him like a caress. He went half hard, which was ridiculously inappropriate for the conversation they were having.

“Do they still live there? Your parents?”

The thought was almost laughable. “No. My mom sold the condo a few years after my dad strolled off with my babysitter. Now she lives in Boca Raton. I have no idea where my dad is, and don’t care to find out.”

Boston wasn’t sure why he had just told Shelby about his father running off, or why he suddenly felt those old painful feelings of jealousy about his friends who had a stabler home life. Shelby was one of those, with this quiet town of pretty little houses, and family that would do just about anything for her, including her oversized ex-husband. He’d stopped feeling sorry for himself years ago and had accepted his life for what it was. He had his career, his success, and that was what was important.