Chapter Thirty-One

"Hurry. They'll be here in ten minutes."

Everlee was hurrying as fast as she could, but no matter how much Shane scolded, she could still only do so much. Her energy hadn't fully rebounded since she'd been shot. Certainly not as quickly as her physical injuries. If anything, she felt like she was fifty-years-old today. Stiff and tired. But mostly, grouchy. Put upon. Not her usual peppy self. Yes, physical therapy was getting her strength back. The problem had more to do with what was going on with her heart, and what she'd seen the last day in the hospital, that intimate moment between Shane and Tuesday. That damned kiss he had no idea she'd witnessed. Sure, he'd packed a bag and moved right into her place to help her convalesce, without even asking. Which made things between them worse.

He'd been the perfect caregiver. Attentive. So damned thoughtful. Kind. He fixed all of her meals, even took the dogs for long walks, which made Blade a true believer. What dog wouldn't be thrilled following an alpha like Shane? Didn't hurt that along with Shane came two adorable, bouncing Springer Spaniels that were now Blade's best girlfriends. The three of them slept together in one huge puppy pile on the fluffy bed that had once belonged solely to her pittie. Only now, he'd turned into a grinning, slobbering pup who adored Shane and his girls.

But Everlee couldn't move beyond what she'd seen between Shane and Tuesday. Before that, Everlee thought she and Shane had been on solid relationship ground. Which would've been a first for her. Now? Not so much. Shane's subterfuge had spoiled everything. She hadn't kissed him once since she'd been home, didn't ask him about what she'd seen. Wouldn't dare. How could she ever prepare for that big of a letdown? If he told her they were through? She was already hurting enough.

She'd never be blonde or sexy or beautiful like Tuesday, and her legs would never be long. Men might fall like dominoes for Tuesday, but no one would ever for a short, stubborn, ill-tempered, pushy former Air Force lieutenant. And Butch didn't count! He hadn't fallen for her. All he'd ever wanted was a slave, some stupid idiot to mother him through his lazy-assed addictions.

So, yeah. Why ask for more pain? Even if Shane were polite and sweet while he told her they were through, that he was moving out and moving on, she knew she'd open her big mouth and say things she didn't mean. Or worse, she'd fall apart and cry like a damned sissy.

So, no. Flat no. She got it. She was the ugly step-sister to Tuesday's gorgeous Cinderella. So for one more day, Everlee pushed her confrontation with Shane into the future. Hopefully, when she could stand and fight back and do it with style. Like a boss!

But that day was probably closer than she wanted. Everlee could tell. Shane had grown even kinder lately, more thoughtful. Sweeter. More gentlemanly. As if he wasn't already choirboy perfect. He still said grace over their meals, which he insisted they eat at her dining room table because he'd said he wanted to recreate the connective family atmosphere he'd known with his mother. Which was all well and good— if she and he were a family. But they weren't. They were co-workers, two people who'd been temporarily welded together by a near fatal event that he obviously felt responsible for. They were ships that passed in the night. Nothing more.

He'd sure been surprised when he'd first stepped inside her apartment though, mostly because she'd furnished her place—not her Dad's place and not Butch's!—with expensive Stickley furniture that had cost an arm and a leg. At least it was classy. More's the pity that she'd forever be white trash with her father incarcerated at Washington State's Walla Walla Penitentiary. Every piece of her pricey furniture proved she could certainly look good enough . That just took money. But she'd never be good enough , would she? She'd never be classy or beautiful. And today, Everlee was positive no one could ever love a big-mouthed loser like her.

Living with three rambunctious large-breed dogs didn't help. Molly, Dolly, and Blade had bonded within minutes of meeting, then turned her apartment into one perpetual puppy playpen. At least they got along. But rubber balls, gelatin bones, and tattered chew toys were everywhere. Sometimes they were underfoot, more often than not, under the furniture. Not that she minded, because, hey, most of those toys belonged to Blade, and she'd meant for her home to be a sanctuary, not a showroom. Still, her prized pieces of Stickley were the only classy things she owned. Blade didn't count. He was more like her, rough around the edges, a gnarly chunk of coal more than a diamond in the rough. As if she, Everlee Yeager, a murderer's daughter, could ever be mistaken for something bright and shiny. Someone worth keeping. That'd be the day.

But this afternoon, Shane, darn him, had gone and invited Heston and the gorgeous Ms. Smart over to visit, like any minute now. Guess he needed reinforcements when he bailed on his promises. Guess he wasn't a gentleman after all.

"Stop feeling sorry for yourself. When it's over, it's over. No second chances. Good riddance," Everlee grumbled as she knelt beside her prized rocking chair and tipped it far enough back to reach the rubber bone beside the rear runner. As expected, her position caught the dogs' attention and the game was on. Suddenly there were three furry, drooling faces peering beneath the rocker, all of them panting dog breath into her face. Making her tear up. Reminding her how much she was going to miss these sweet Springer Spaniels when Shane left.

Suddenly, a big warm hand landed on her backside, cupped one cheek, and made her smack her head on the underside of the rocker's hardwood seat. "Ouch! Damn it, Shane," she complained when she jerked upright. "You startled me, you big ape!"

She'd meant for him to back off, to at least give her enough room to get on her feet. But next thing she knew, Everlee found herself flat on her back beside the rocker with Shane on his hands and knees over her. His chest was bare, and he was smiling. Despite what she thought she knew, he didn't look like he was going anywhere. His pupils were too big and black, and his handsome face was bright with mischief. His bare chest was drool worthy. Man, she was going to miss this guy.

Her breath caught when his strong, capable fingers smoothed over her skin beneath her baggy t-shirt, under her bra, and gently cupped her breast. Everlee closed her eyes as the work-roughened pads of his thumb plucked at her nipple. Yes, yes, yes. That was what she'd wanted for weeks, this intimate connection. This beginning. Only it was the beginning of the end. Wasn't it?

It was a first since her release from the hospital, though, and the sensory stimulation overwhelmed Everlee. Her heart pounded like it wanted out of her chest. He'd been so damned in control since her shooting. So careful handling her, and way too cautious. He hadn't even slept in her bed with her. Not once. Sure, they'd cuddled on the couch in her living room and watched TV, but as soon as she'd drifted off to sleep, he'd picked her up and carried her to her room, tucked her complaining ass into bed, and then gone back to sleep on the couch. Every time. Every night! Until Everlee wasn't sure about that so-called date he'd promised her. Because this wasn't it, neither was him being her caretaker her idea of a relationship. This was platonic, and he was too damned nice, and she was not that kind of a woman. She wanted rough and dirty and hot and heavy and sweaty. Right now! With the dogs watching!

With her body revved up and screaming like an LS engine caught in the four-second delay between the flash of amber and green on the Christmas tree before a drag race, she grabbed hold of his belt buckle and—

The doorbell rang. "Shit!"

Shane pulled back, his grin wider, his perfect, white teeth showing between his sexy lips, and… a dimple? Everlee hadn't noticed that cute little thing before, but there it was, tucked into his cheek like an adorable secret surprise. Everlee wanted that perfect little dimple to be just her secret surprise. Not sharing, Tuesday!

The bell rang again and Shane looked over his shoulder at the door. She wrapped her fingers around his belt. "Make them go away. Tell them to beat it," she ordered, her errant tongue licking up the side of his neck in anticipation of at least one good, wet kiss. That's all. And okay, maybe a little skin-on-skin playtime before he left her. She deserved that much. She did!

But when his head rotated back around to her, that sexy smile and those deep blue eyes were her undoing. Shane rested his forehead on hers and kissed the tip of her nose. She melted in the delicious, coffee-scented breath in her face. "Soon, Everlee. Very soon. I am going to make you mine, and you'll never doubt my intentions again. But right now we have company and—"

"Are you leaving?" she demanded to know. By then, her fingernails were stuck in his back like cat claws. "I mean me? Are you leaving me? Is that what this is all about?" She never could keep her mouth shut.

His brows slammed together and those adorable wrinkles she loved lined his tanned forehead. His hair flopped down into his eyes. He looked playful as sin, but upset. "Why would you say that?" he asked as his fingers eased out from under her shirt. "How could you even think I'd leave you?"

"Because this is the first time you've touched me like you want me," she bit out, still mad at him for inviting Tuesday over to her apartment. Hers. Not his. Not theirs. Not yet. Maybe never.

Those damned tears welled up again, making her blink.

Shane's eyes turned stormy. With his elbows dug into the thick Turkish rug beneath them, he bracketed her head between his big, warm palms. His thumbs smoothed over her cheeks, which had to be bright red if the heat coming off them meant anything. His long fingers laced into her short, spikey hair, which, for a split second, Everlee wished was as long and blonde as Tuesday's.

Without warning, he slammed his mouth over hers and French-kissed the temper out of her. Like a cleansing tidal wave. A tsunami. Her foolish indignation was swept away in the hurricane called Shane Hayes. He suckled and nipped, he bit her top lip, then the bottom one as he stormed over every last one of her childish, petulant defenses until—

Everlee melted like gooey caramel into the rug. Shane took possession of her lips and her tongue and every last one of her uppity, self-righteous senses. And she was drowning. Claimed and owned and so damned breathless for every atom of oxygen he exhaled. For his scent. His taste. For every single part of this man. This was what she'd been craving.

Somewhere off in the distance, the doorbell rang a third time. Someone pounded on her door as it tolled its final beat, and Everlee found herself upright, standing dizzily on her feet. Shane's hands were on her waist, and his lips were warm and moist on her forehead.

"Then I must be doing something wrong, babe, because I'm not going anywhere," he murmured. "Not without you. We should answer the door, though, and after our friends leave, you and me are going to talk. All night if we have too, got it? Because I love you, Ev, and you should know that by now. I thought you did."

"I did, err, I d-do," she stuttered. "And I love you, too, and I do know that. Most of the time." She knew she was smiling like a loon, but Shane had finally squashed her nagging doubts. At the same time, he'd staunched the bleeding, sucking hole in her soul that had come with losing her entire family the way she had. With her fingers on his bare chest, her nose against his bare skin, and her ass in his big, warm hands, she finally understood that maybe—just maybe—she didn't have to try harder than everyone else anymore. She didn't have to be like Tuesday at all. He loved her just like she was, and she was a silly, spoiled brat for ever thinking otherwise.

"You need a shirt, big guy," she told him breathily, still cocooned in his love where she wanted to stay.

He winked, let her go, and shucked the clean t-shirt hanging off the back of the rocker over his head. "No, babe, all I need is you. We good now?" he asked, his brow spiked like a beast, daring her to act up again, but that gentle glow back in his eyes once more.

"Yes," she breathed, running a finger over her ear and into her hair. "We're good, Shane. And you are so damned hot. I really like you like this."

That brought back his grin. "You mean undressed? Later, babe. For sure. But let's get rid of our visitors first, okay?" That was the most perfect thing he could've said.

"Yes, please," breathed out of Everlee. Her shoulders lifted. She smiled at how compliant one kiss from Shane could make her. How did he do that?