When Summer Comes (Whiskey Creek #3)(47)
Author: Brenda Novak

But his steps slowed as he reached the door. “Just tell me one thing.” She didn’t agree to do that, but he continued, anyway. “How does my name change any of the interaction we’ve had? I’m still the same man, regardless of what you call me.”

“Your name isn’t the problem,” she said.

“Then what is?”

“Does it matter?”

“I want to know.”

“Fine. I’m crazy about you, even though I shouldn’t be. And you hate that. Maybe you hate me. So move on, Whoever You Are. Be alone and make sure you stay alone. Have it your way.”

When she moved toward the bedroom, he told himself to let her go and walk out. Her words seemed to echo through the house. Make sure you stay alone. Was that how he wanted to live? Not really. He just hadn’t seen any other way to cope with the turmoil inside him, any other way to keep from hurting the people he cared about.

Suddenly, he didn’t know why it was so important that he not touch her. Behrukh seemed far away, part of another lifetime. She’d died because of him. How could he make what he’d done any worse?

“Callie.”

“Go.” She didn’t look back at him, but he could tell she was crying. Catching her before she could disappear into the bedroom and slam the door, he turned her around and drew her up against him. “I do hate you,” he murmured, “but only because I want you so much.”

He saw the confusion in her eyes, but he couldn’t explain something he didn’t understand himself. All he could do was try to forget the past. And losing himself in making love with her seemed to hold the most immediate promise.

* * *

Callie knew she was crossing a line she shouldn’t cross. Levi wasn’t the only one who hadn’t been completely forthcoming. What she’d held back was possibly worse. But she didn’t feel she needed to stop him from touching her long enough to bare her soul. One romantic interlude didn’t mean he’d be sticking around. Chances were he’d be gone by morning.

And she’d let him go, maybe even encourage him to leave sooner rather than later. She didn’t want to drag him through what was about to happen to her. She preferred to hang on to this memory, to treasure the next few minutes like a pretty seashell in her pocket, one she could take out and examine when she needed something to bolster her for the challenges ahead. Then she could smile, knowing he was out there on his motorcycle, driving God knew where, oblivious to her struggle.

“You feel exactly how I imagined you would,” he said as he slid his hands up her shirt. “You’re so soft. Everywhere.”

She grinned at him. “Just like you imagined? When did you imagine putting your hands on me?”

He smoothed the hair out of her face. “What do you think I’ve been dreaming about out there in the barn—or here on the couch?”

“It sounds like we’ve been having the same dream. But—” she wiped the rest of her tears away “—don’t worry, okay? About anything. You can leave tomorrow. No guilt.”

He stared at her. “What’d you say?”

“I’m telling you that I understand this doesn’t constitute a—a commitment. It’s not like I think…you know, that you’re falling in love with me…or that you’ll stay.” She laughed as if both of those possibilities would be too far-fetched to even consider. She actually hoped they were, for his sake. “The barn’s burned down. Nothing’s keeping you here.”

He frowned. “Do you mind if we enjoy this before you start saying goodbye?”

“Of course. No goodbyes. Not yet. We can save that for tomorrow. I just…I thought you’d want to be…reassured.”

“I don’t,” he said. “It makes me feel as if…I’m Kyle.”

“Excuse me?”

“A stand-in.”

Maybe she’d been a little too zealous in getting her point across. But she felt as if she had to do something to protect him, just in case he wasn’t as impervious to their attraction as he seemed. Setting up the right expectations would help. “You’re definitely not a stand-in,” she said. “You’re what I’ve been waiting for—a man who makes me weak in the knees just to look at him. But I’m not taking this seriously, so don’t let that spook you,” she quickly clarified.

“I’d really like you to stop talking,” he said, and that was okay because she’d been having a hard time thinking since he’d unfastened her bra.

“Right. No more talking.”

“That solves one problem.”

“We have another?”

“I’m covered in soot. Put on that sexy thing you bought from Victoria’s Secret while I have a shower.”

Was he really going to take time for a shower? “I was going to return that bustier.”

“No way. I’m not missing out. Give me five minutes,” he said, and pulled off his shirt as he headed to her bathroom.

* * *

Callie hadn’t been this nervous in years. She put Rifle in the yard and covered the broken window with cardboard. Then she donned the bustier and panties and covered them with a short, silky robe. She also smoothed lotion over her arms and legs and sprayed on some perfume. But by the time she heard the shower stop, she’d just about talked herself into calling off the whole thing. She was exploiting Levi’s ignorance when it came to her situation, and she had no right.

What do I do? That question whirled through her head a million times. But when he emerged from the bathroom completely nude, hair wet and uncombed and curling slightly around his ears, she still had no answer—just a rush of hormones to contend with.

“You look a little unsure,” he said, his eyes narrowing. He caught on quickly.

“And you look even better than I expected,” she whispered.

When he grinned at her words, every nerve in her body tingled in anticipation. This was going to be the experience she’d long imagined, where she wanted to make love so badly she could hardly breathe. She had to take advantage of the opportunity, before she got too sick to feel desire, didn’t she? Liver disease could cause impotence in men; she was glad it hadn’t yet affected her libido. At least not on good days like today.

She managed to put up a hand before he could get too close. “Maybe…maybe we’re being foolish. We should think about this. I haven’t been making the best decisions of late.”