Trust in the Lawe (Colorado Trust 3)

Noah’s voice pierced the cocoon just before he entered the room. Kendra gave a guilty start and pulled from Colton’s arms. She clutched the towel with one hand, pasted what she hoped was an innocent expression on her face, and turned toward the door where Noah now stood.

“What?”

He stared at Colton, then her. “Can I go to church with Cody?”

She noticed he wore his clothes from the Wilshire Academy that he’d had on when they fled New York, tie and all. “Of course.”

Noah’s resentful gaze returned to Colton. “Cody said you’re going, too.” When Colton nodded, he added, “It’s time to leave.”

The protective tone in Noah’s voice was unmistakable, and very sweet. Colton replied with a, “Yessir,” under his breath and Kendra hid a smile. He crossed the room, but paused at the door to look back at her. “I’ll talk to you later.”

It sounded like a promise, with the barest hint of emphasis on you. She nodded, but he’d already left. In the face of Noah’s obvious disapproval, she reached into the closet for a shirt, and called over her shoulder, “Have a good morning.”

“Yeah, sure.”

She turned at his sullen response, but he left as fast as Colton. The mattress bounced when she flopped backward onto the bed. What was the matter with her that she couldn’t keep her lips off Colton’s? She’d never had a problem with self-restraint before, yet discouraging him a moment ago hadn’t even crossed her mind.

She’d never had the rest of the world fade away when a man kissed her, either.

After changing into dry clothes, she returned to the kitchen and began to clean the house. As she dusted and vacuumed, swept and mopped, she wondered about the contradiction of Colton Lawe. He dressed neatly but never tucked shirts into his jeans. Always clean-shaven, he frequently raked his hair from his forehead with a rough, calloused hand—and that same hand had clean, trimmed nails.

In the bathroom, she noticed the counter was clear of any items and wiped clean as well, but the toilet seat was up. Her mouth quirked. Neat freak that he was, Noah hated that. On her way out, she found her eyes drawn to the closed door of Colton’s room.

He’d never know.

She stepped through the door as if someone might be hiding on the other side. Like in the bathroom, she found more contradictions. A neatly made bed with dirty clothes on the floor beside it—not a pile, just yesterday’s work clothes. She remembered the way that green shirt deepened the color of his eyes.

A manila folder sat on the otherwise clear desk, a few envelopes and papers poking from under the top flap. She took two steps forward before her conscience caught up with her. She’d already invaded his private space; she had no business snooping in his personal papers.

The bed reminded her of his request to trade rooms. It was so small compared to a man of six feet plus. He probably couldn’t even roll over, whereas she could do a cartwheel on hers. Guilt took seed and began to grow. He was right; it really didn’t make much sense for her to—

Whoa.

What was she thinking, going all soft like this? She hadn’t invited him here, into the house. No one had forced him to move into this small room with its tiny bed. He was here for less than honorable intentions—to prove she was less than honorable herself.

Kendra slammed from the room. Let him deal with the hand he’d dealt himself, good kisser be damned.

****

He was in big trouble. He couldn’t seem to keep his hands—or mouth—off his employer’s sister. Repeat, Employer’s Sister, not hot housemate. Shifting in the church pew, Colton acknowledged that not only was it not a smart idea from the standpoint that he didn’t know what she was up to, but he also hadn’t missed the note of suspicion in Joel’s voice the morning he’d questioned Colton about moving into the guesthouse.

The thought of Colton spending the night with Kendra hadn’t set well with her brother. Colton knew he’d risk his job—or worse, his friendship with Joel and Britt—if he pursued the crazy attraction he harbored for Kendra.

But, Heaven help him, it didn’t seem to matter when she got within ten feet. And it wasn’t just the clothes she’d worn when she first arrived, or the smokin’ hot pajamas she continued to wear now. When she’d been shoveling manure—of all things—he’d caught himself staring at the loose T-shirt she now favored.

A fantasy had formed as to how her skin would look and feel as he lifted the soft cotton to reveal the treasure underneath. Would her underwear be as sexy as her pajamas or as serviceable as the Levi’s she’d switched to? Going so far as to picture her in nothing but lace bra, matching black panties, pierced navel and those ridiculous high-heeled boots, he’d discovered it wasn’t only his mind that was working overtime.

Even now, sitting in church, he was hot and bothered enough to shift in his seat and loosen his tie.

Yeah, he was in trouble all right. With a capital T.

After the priest said the final blessing, Colton walked out with the Morgans but declined their invitation to brunch. He wanted time with Kendra to sort out their crazy situation. They needed to be able to work together as friends—for both their sakes.

Back at the ranch, he immediately noticed the empty spot where the truck should’ve been parked. Suspicion leapt to the forefront; had she waited to be left alone? Colton hurried inside, searching for any signs that she’d run. The house was spotless. Dishes done, vacuum tracks in the carpeting, and the smell of pine all attested to a recent cleaning.

To wipe away fingerprints?

He strode to her room. It was the same. Bed precisely made without a single item or piece of clothing lying around to verify her presence. He wrenched open the closet door. Relief released the breath in his chest. His fingers trailed the clothes that hung there as his gaze skimmed the shoes and boots neatly lined underneath. He closed the door before going to the dresser for further assurance. He absently noted socks in the first drawer and was already sliding it back when his right hand opened the next drawer.