“Did you find Nightmare’s kittens?” Mom called from below the loft.
Steve snapped out of his musing, released his grip on Roux’s ass, and started down the ladder. “Six of them.”
“She always has the best little mousers. I’ll have to take a couple over to our place when they’re older.”
When he reached the bottom of the ladder, he held it steady while Roux slowly descended.
“It is a lot scarier going down,” she said.
Her knees were visibly shaking. He couldn’t help but notice the two man-sized dusty handprints on her butt. Mom must have noticed them too, because she giggled and then pressed her hand under her nose to hide her smirk.
“Don’t embarrass me,” Steve warned under his breath.
“That’s what moms are for,” she teased.
Once Roux’s feet were on solid ground, she turned to face them, a lovely smile of greeting on her lips and in her eyes. Every time she smiled, Steve found it hard to breathe, and this time was no exception.
“This is Roux. Roux Williams.”
“What an unusual and lovely name.” Mom reached out and squeezed Roux’s hand.
“It was my grandmother’s. She was French. And also a redhead.” Roux tugged at a strand of her silky hair.
“This is my mom, Elizabeth,” Steve said. “Betty.”
“Pleasure to meet you,” Roux said a bit woodenly.
“Likewise.” Mom turned her attention to Steve. “Pops says you’re going to make omelets for lunch. He sent Dana to town to get cheese.”
“So we have a few minutes,” Steve said. He took Roux’s hand, which had turned clammy since he’d last held it. “Let’s go pick veggies.”
He didn’t miss his mother’s scowl as her gaze landed on his and Roux’s entwined fingers. Mom had been against his marrying Bianca—his entire family had been, truth be told—so she was hypercritical of any woman who came near him. He’d spent several months hiding out here after his divorce, so no one knew better than his family how severely Bianca’s betrayal had destroyed him. But Steve knew Mom would warm up to Roux quickly. How could she not? The woman was everything that had been lacking in his life. And if he could recognize that within weeks of meeting her, surely his wise and wonderful mother would see it almost immediately.
“Pops says you cut hair,” Mom said to Roux as she grabbed the bucket of eggs and they all exited the barn, squinting as the brilliant late spring sunshine lit their faces.
Roux laughed. “No. He thought I said I was a beautician, but I’m really a musician.”
“Oh.” Mom grinned sideways. “I wish I could talk that man into getting a hearing aid. He doesn’t think he needs one. So do you sing?”
“No, I—”
“She does and beautifully so,” Steve said. “She just won’t admit it.”
Roux elbowed him for interrupting her, but he didn’t mind. He liked bragging about her.
“I sing backup, and I play the keyboard.”
“Maybe she’ll play us a song after lunch,” Steve said. It was the main reason he’d brought her there. “On grandma’s piano.”
Mom’s lips wobbled almost imperceptivity. “I think she’d like that.”
Roux’s brow crinkled, but Steve knew the she that Mom referred to was her departed mother. Mams had always wanted someone in the family to play her piano with the same love and attention she’d shown the antique instrument, but no one had ever taken to it like she had.
The pack of overgrown pups followed them to the vegetable garden and then darted off after a startled rabbit that had been nibbling on the lettuce.
“Wow,” Roux said. “This is amazing!”
As far as midwestern vegetable gardens went, it was perfectly ordinary. He tried seeing it through a city dweller’s eyes. And then a vegetarian city dweller’s eyes. He still failed to see it as amazing.
“We’ll need bell peppers, tomatoes, onions, a bit of spinach, and whatever else you’d like,” he said, setting her free to find the ripest specimens the garden had to offer.
“She’s adorable,” Mom commented with a grin as Roux exclaimed over an enormous tomato. He’d have thought it was coated in solid gold if he didn’t know better. “Where in the world did you find her?”
“In a limo,” Steve said. “Her band is joining ours on tour.”
“That will be nice,” Mom said. “If you can keep yourself out of trouble.”
“I only get into trouble when I’m bored,” he said. “And I haven’t been bored since I met her.”
Roux had spotted the strawberry patch and started picking and eating strawberries right off the plants. “You might want to wash those first,” he called out. And unable to watch from a distance any longer, he left his mother’s side to venture into the garden.
“I didn’t think. Are they covered in pesticides? I didn’t taste any.”
“No. Pops believes in organic gardening, free-range chickens, grass-fed beef. He doesn’t realize those are progressive, sustainable practices, so don’t tell him.” He crouched down beside her and winked.
“So I don’t need to wash them.” She found another ripe berry and plucked it from its stem before biting into it.
“They’re probably dirty.”
“A little dirt never hurt anyone.”
She was so unlike Bianca. Was that why he liked her so damned much? But Bianca had been his perfect woman, so how could one so different from her also be his perfect woman? He spied a particularly large and ripe strawberry and picked it, lifting it to her lips to offer her a bite. Her gaze held his as she bit into it, and a flood of desire heated his groin, stirred his senses into chaos.
“We need to get these omelets made so I can monopolize your time.” And discover all the ways I can make you climax, he added silently.
“I’ve got the onion,” Mom called from the other side of the garden. “Do you want me to dig up some potatoes too?”
“Sounds good, Mom!”
“You want to hear something weird?” Roux asked. When he nodded, she said, “I feel like I belong here. In this place. Surrounded by all this life. With you.” She lowered her gaze, a blush staining her cheeks. “I guess that was more stupid than weird.”
He touched her chin to encourage her eyes to meet his. “Not stupid or weird. You do belong.”
Her eyes went glossy with tears, and his heart panged with regret. He hadn’t meant to upset her.
“Shh,” he murmured, his thumb stroking her smooth cheek. “Please don’t cry.”
“I’m sorry.” She pressed the back of her hand to one eye, leaving a smudge of dirt on her brow. “It’s just . . . finding a place to belong is hard for an orphan. And when you find it, but you know you can’t have it, not really . . .” She shook her head and took a steadying breath, blowing it out slowly. “Let’s go to that island.”
But she could belong here, with his family, with him. He could give that to her. He just wasn’t sure if he was ready to offer it yet.
“Omelets first, then we’ll return to the airstrip.” He could always bring her back at a later date. He loved the way she looked in this space—sunlight making her hair glow like fire, the breeze blowing the strands to life; smudges of dirt on her face; life all around her. She was right, she did belong here. But he wasn’t sure he did. He’d always wanted to leave. Had grander plans for his life than a midwestern farm could offer. And he’d found what he’d been looking for in California, hadn’t he?
“Stevie!”
Dana’s exuberant cry broke Roux’s spell over him, and he shifted to glance over his shoulder. God, he hated being called Stevie, and his sister knew that.
Dana was all smiles as she hurried across the yard to the garden.
“My sister,” Steve said, rising to his feet and helping Roux to stand, but not before she plucked another ripe berry from an overburdened plant.
“Dana, this is Roux,” he said.
Dana nodded in Roux’s direction, but her attention w
as all on Steve. “You look good.” She slapped his arm. “But you always look good.”
“Not looking too bad yourself.”
She rolled her eyes. “Please. We both know who got the looks in this family.”
“You.”