CHAPTER 6

C HAPTER 6

Luke closed the dishwasher door and looked over at Rob. "Why don't you take Pen to see your new place before it gets too bad out there?"

Rob turned to Pen, who was nodding enthusiastically.

"I'd love to see it! Bernie says you've done an amazing job with the remodel."

Sally smiled at her son. "He certainly didn't cut any corners."

"Like Noah would let me." Luke grinned. "He terrified all the contractors just by standing there and scowling so they all produced quality work."

Pen was already moving, and with a sigh, Rob rose to his feet. Luke winked at him.

"Take your time."

Rob was still pondering that wink when he stepped out into the freezing cold and held the door open for Pen. At least this time, she wore her knitted hat, scarf, and gloves. Her chin was buried into the collar of her ski jacket against the erratic gusts of wind. He took her hand without even thinking about it.

"Careful, it's getting icy."

She drew him even closer, tucking her hand into the crook of his arm. He wasn't a particularly tall guy, but she fitted perfectly against his side, and he liked seeing her there. He liked everything about her—the way she smiled at him, the way she made him want to protect her, how her lips tasted of cherries and coffee.

Man . . . he was in so much trouble. How had Little Miss Sunshine gotten into his head and made him want things he really didn't deserve? And he wanted her—there was no room for doubt about that.

It didn't take more than five minutes to reach the old bunkhouse. He dug out his key and opened the front door, stamping his booted feet on the mat as he entered.

"There's not a lot to see." Rob took off his hat and coat. "I think Luke just likes showing off his work."

Pen removed her jacket and looked around with her usual bright curiosity. The front of the space was a combo family room and kitchen with a bedroom and a bathroom at the back.

"It's certainly warm." She'd taken off her boots and was wiggling her toes. Her socks had pink bunnies on them.

"Underfloor heating," Rob said.

She looked over at him. "Are you going to give me a tour?"

"I think you can just about see everything from where you're standing."

"Not when the doors are closed."

"I wasn't expecting guests." He took her hand and walked her past the kitchen. "So, excuse my mess."

He showed her the bathroom first, and then opened the door into his bedroom. "Here you go."

He looked down to see her smile had disappeared. "What's up?"

"It's very . . . sparse."

He shrugged. "I don't own much stuff. I either sold it to get more painkillers, or I lost it when I couldn't pay my rent and the landlord took possession of everything."

She put her palm on his chest. "It must have been awful to lose everything."

"It's just things, Pen. The worst thing was losing myself."

"Oh, Rob." She wrapped her arms around his waist, and he tentatively stroked her hair.

"It's okay."

She looked up at him, her eyes full of tears. "You're right about the possessions, but I'm so glad you didn't give up. Watching someone you love lose themselves to addiction is hard enough, but for the person concerned? It's a tragedy."

"Then it was good that I didn't stay home and inflict all that on my parents," Rob murmured, knowing he should let her go but reluctant to do so, on many levels.

"Do they know what happened to you?"

"They tried to reach out to me. I blew them off."

She studied his face but didn't say anything, which was most unlike her. He found himself wanting to explain.

"I felt like a lowlife. I couldn't bear for them to see what I'd done to myself. "

She nodded. "I get that. We had to wait until our person reached rock bottom before they asked for help. It was horrible to have to watch that and not interfere."

"One of your family is an addict?" Rob asked. He hadn't noticed any familiar faces at his monthly meetings.

"Not anymore." Pen smiled for the first time.

Rob wanted to tell her that addiction was a lifelong battle but it wasn't his place, so he smiled back at her.

"That's great."

"We still worry, but it's been five years now."

"That's a start," Rob said. "It's always still there for me. I hate taking any kind of drug now."

"I can imagine." Pen stepped away from him and looked around the bedroom. "You could do with some pictures in here."

He'd begun to love the way her mind flitted from one subject to another. It certainly kept him on his toes.

"I'm not great with that kind of thing."

"I noticed." Pen grinned at him. "I'll get my aunt Linda to give you one of her patchwork quilts. You'll need it in the winter."

She headed for the door and Rob followed her, glad that she'd left his bedroom because he'd been imagining gently lowering her down onto the sheets, stripping her naked and . . .

"You need a cat!" Pen called out to him. "And some throw cushions, and maybe a picture or two?"

"Number one, I can't afford much, and two, I'm renting this place, and I don't think Luke will want me gussying it up."

"I don't see you as a gussying it up kind of person," Pen agreed. "But a picture might be nice. Do you have photos of your family?"

He considered her for a long moment, took out his wallet, and handed her a small, folded, square card.

"Oh, Rob . . ." Her voice was soft as she looked down at the only photo of his family that had survived his desperate years. "You look just like your dad."

She came toward him, put her arms around his neck and kissed him on the mouth. "Life sucks sometimes, doesn't it?"

He didn't bother to answer but kissed her back, his hand in her hair, holding her right where he needed her. She pushed on his chest, and the next moment he was sitting on the couch, and she was on his lap.

He groaned as the kiss became more frantic and allowed his hands to wander all over her body while she returned the favor with her usual enthusiasm. Eventually, he eased back and looked up at her.

"If we don't stop now, I'm going to want more."

Her beaming smile made him want to smile in return. "Like as in everything? I've never done that before, but I think I'd like to do it with you—that is, if it's something that you'd be interested in, but if you aren't—"

He realized he should've just kept kissing her because the thought that he'd be her first lover was making him want to howl like an alpha wolf.

"Pen."

She stopped talking.

"I think we should take this slow," he suggested. "There's no rush."

She nodded, her expression intent. "There are bases, right?" She wrinkled her nose. "That's a baseball thing. I think I made it to second base once, but that's about it, and to be honest, I'm a bit hazy on the details, and I do like a list. Perhaps you could write it out for me?" She looked at him expectantly.

"I think we can work it out ourselves," Rob said. "And just do what comes naturally."

"Have you done it before?"

"Yeah."

He tensed, hoping she wouldn't require all the details because he wasn't proud of some of the things he'd done in his lost years.

To his relief, she smiled. "That's great! You can keep me on track!" She touched the front of his flannel shirt. "I would like to see more of you. Is that okay?"

"Only if I get to see you, too." Rob couldn't quite believe what he was saying, but he didn't want to disappoint Pen even a little bit, and he was getting quite fond of how direct she tended to be. "All you have to remember is that if you don't like anything, just speak up and I'll stop."

She nodded. "And the same goes for you, too."

"I think I'll like everything you do to me, sweet pea."

She started unbuttoning his shirt and then frowned. "You have a T-shirt underneath."

"It's freezing out there."

"I suppose it is." She paused. "In the interest of disclosure, I have three layers of clothing on, including a thermal cami."

"Camo?"

"Camisole." Pen mock frowned at him. "Now, please focus and take off your shirt and your T-shirt so that I can finally get a look at your tattoo."

Rob raised an eyebrow. "It's my tattoo you're after?"

"Among other things," Pen said. "I can multitask."

Rob sat forward, took off his flannel shirt, and pulled his T-shirt over his head.

"Oh." Pen stared at his chest.

"Not to your liking?" Rob asked, his hand reaching for his shirt. "I can—"

Pen leaned in and used the tip of her tongue to trace one of the tattooed wings before kissing his skin.

"It's a phoenix," Rob said even as she continued her explorations.

"Mmm."

"I had it done when I worked at a Michelin-star restaurant and thought I'd made it."

She briefly looked up at him, her blue eyes shining. "It's perfect for you."

He curved one arm around her waist and caressed her hip bone, making her shudder.

"Sometimes I wish I'd saved the money. It would've come in useful."

"You would probably have spent it on the wrong things anyway." Pen kissed his throat. "Can I see the back?"

He obligingly sat forward again, and her hands wandered over his flesh, making him acutely aware of the tightness of his jeans and his increasing desire to strip her naked. Her hips rolled against his, and he tried not to groan.

"What's wrong?" She sat up straight.

"Nothing I can't handle." He gestured at her to keep going.

She glanced down at his jeans, and he bit back a yelp as she touched his fly.

"This doesn't look comfortable. Would you like me to—"

His hand closed over hers and stopped her fingers. "No. I'm good."

"Oh, did I do something wrong?" She bit her lip. "I just thought—"

"I don't want to rush things," Rob tried to explain. "And you unzipping me might end up with me rolling you onto your back."

"And doing what?" Pen asked.

"What do you think?"

"Making love to me?"

Rob nodded, his attention riveted to her face and the utter sincerity of her gaze. No one had ever looked at him with such trust and appreciation in his life.

"How can you look at me like that?" he said hoarsely.

"Like what?"

"Like you want me."

"Because I do," Pen said. "I can't think of anything I'd like more in my life."

Pen held her breath as a conflicting wave of emotions went across Rob's normally impassive features. She wasn't going to lie. She did want everything he was willing to give her because she was surrounded by his calmness and strength, and somehow it was becoming increasingly important to her. Her fingers returned to stroking his skin as if they couldn't stop wanting the sensation of being connected to him.

He took a deep breath. "I want that too, but we're going to take it slow."

"Then can you slowly take your jeans off so I can see all of you?"

He groaned. "Pen, you'll be the death of me."

"Got to give a lot of credit to Wrangler," Pen said. "They sure make sturdy jeans."

A laugh shook through Rob. "And you're still not getting into them—yet."

Pen gazed at him. "Then can we just . . . cuddle a bit?"

He nodded. "That sounds great." He slid his hand behind her neck. "Come here, sweet pea, and kiss me."

* * *

Two hours later, Rob walked Pen back to the main house and left her with a last lingering kiss at the guest bedroom door before heading back out. He'd had the best time cuddling up with Pen on his couch, listening to her chat away and just being with her. He'd never had that kind of connection with a person before in his life. He wasn't sure how he felt about it and was terrified of doing it wrong.

Luke was in the kitchen, and Rob stopped to say good night.

"Do you think the road will be okay for us to get to work tomorrow?" Rob asked.

"Yup, it's eased right off, so the roads should be clear," Luke said. "I'm keeping my fingers crossed for the big day."

"At least no one has far to come," Rob said. "You and Bernie both being local."

"That helps," Luke agreed. "But sometimes we do get cut off completely." He sighed. "Maybe I should've been less selfish and had the wedding in town. I guess I wanted to get married in the same spot my parents did."

"Nothing wrong with that." Rob remembered to try to be sociable. "I think my parents did the same."

Luke put his mug in the dishwasher and turned it on. "I know you're going to be busy with the logistics on the day, but you're still a guest. We both want you to celebrate with us."

"That's . . . very kind of you," Rob said. "Bernie's an amazing person."

"She says the same." Luke grinned. "And I think Pen's got a soft spot for you."

"Yeah. We've been working together a lot on the wedding."

"I noticed."

Rob met Luke's amused gaze. "She's good at her job, and I respect that."

"It's okay. I'm not warning you off or anything." Luke paused. "Pen's perfectly capable of dealing with her own love life."

"She's"—Rob tried to put into words how he felt and trusted Luke to hear him out—"way too good for me."

"That's also up to Pen," Luke said. "But you'd better not mess her around."

"I would never do that."

Luke nodded. "I know, which is why I'm kind of trying to be subtle and encouraging you without actually coming out and saying it."

"That's what you're doing?"

"Obviously not my strength but, hey, I'm willing to try because I like both of you."

The fact that people actually thought he was likable was difficult for Rob to fathom, but he couldn't deny that it gave him hope.

"She kind of crept up on me and made it impossible not to like her," Rob confessed. "She's just a really good person."

"Yeah, she is," Luke said. "So don't screw this up."

Rob nodded and walked through to the mudroom to put on his boots and jacket. He had a weird sense that he'd been given the seal of approval from both his bosses. What he did with that, and how he'd ever manage to deal with Pen's amazingness, was currently beyond him, but for the first time in a long while he wanted to try.

Outside the cold had settled into something more bearable, and the snow had stopped. As he went down the steps the frost-dusted boards creaked and groaned beneath his booted feet. He paused to look up at the clear, black sky and appreciate the constellations of stars clearly visible above him. The vastness overhead always reminded him of how small and insignificant his worries were, and he needed that tonight.

Could he find a way to make things work with Pen? Rob blew out a breath. The last few years had taught him a lot about meeting life's challenges headfirst, not blaming others or relying on props to see him through a problem. What it hadn't done was teach him how to accept that good things might happen, which was a whole new ballgame.

All he knew was that he had to protect Pen's heart at all costs and that he'd never forgive himself if he hurt her in any way. He should leave her alone, but something inside him kept telling him that she was the one —that if he let her go, he'd regret it for the rest of his life. He hadn't felt hope for so long that he didn't trust the feeling, but he'd have to be brave, and that was the most difficult thing of all.