Tools of Engagement Read online

  “Yeah.” She nodded jerkily, but he could see in her eyes that she’d realized letting him be Laura’s guardian until she got back on her feet was the right thing to do. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

  A while later, when he signed the documents, he put down Bethany’s address as Laura’s permanent residence and ignored the feeling of diving without a parachute.

  Wednesday wasn’t so much a moving day as it was Wes and Laura throwing duffels into the back of his truck. Most of the things inside the house belonged to his sister, and at some point, he would probably need to help her move them, but as for his own possessions? There weren’t many. He’d arrived in Port Jefferson with his wallet, some clothes, and a cowboy hat. Not much had been accumulated since then.

  He’d come home last night after filing the papers with the county clerk and told Laura they were moving into Elsa’s ice castle, but it had been disguised as a house to keep her powers a secret. At the time, she’d laughed and seemed excited. Now that they were en route, though, she was clutching her teddy bear a little too tightly, so instead of going straight to Bethany’s house, he drove to Main Street and parked in front of the ice cream shop.

  Wes unhooked her from her booster seat and held her hand on the way inside, letting her order an extra scoop with rainbow sprinkles and gummy bears. They sat in the window quietly for a few minutes while Wes tried to figure out how the hell to approach the topic of her obvious stress.

  Two females and their complicated minds were going to kill him.

  He could already tell.

  “Hey.” He nudged his vanilla-chocolate swirl across the table. “You want to try mine?”

  “No.”

  He retreated. Took a few more bites. “What are you thinking about?”

  “Nothing.”

  Inwardly he sighed. Looked like he would have to give a little of himself to get the truth out of her. Confiding in people was something he’d once avoided at all costs. Who wanted others knowing they had sore spots and weaknesses? But getting to know Bethany, Stephen, Travis, and Dominic had made him realize . . . everyone had weaknesses. They just came in different sizes and shapes. Maybe he could impart some of that wisdom on his niece. “You know, this is going to be the fifteenth house I’ve lived in.”

  She almost dropped her spoon. “Really?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “How many have I lived in?”

  “I think this will be three or four, kid. But you know the good news? You’re never going to catch up with me. Least not until you’re an old lady with a cane. Maybe not even then, because I’m not going to let that happen.” He paused, searching for the right words. “I know when I got here, it seemed like I was going to leave. That’s what I was used to doing. But you had to go and be wonderful. My plans changed and they include you now.”

  A spark of joy went off in her eyes, but it faded little by little and she continued to tap her spoon against the tip of her ice cream mountain. “I want to move. I’m happy we get to live with Elsa.”

  Wes frowned. Didn’t see that one coming. “Explain the pout, then.”

  “I’m not pouting,” she exclaimed, rearing back.

  He held up his hands. “My mistake.”

  They went back to eating silently for a while, but Wes could see she was working on whatever she wanted to say. “This means my mom isn’t coming back.”

  His spoon slowed on its way to his mouth. “She wants to come back, Laura. This just means she needs more time to do it.”

  Slowly, she laid down her utensil and stared at the table. “It makes me feel bad to be happy.”

  It took him a beat to untangle that, but understanding dawned. “Ah. I see.” He swallowed. “You feel guilty for not wanting your mom to come home.”

  She shrugged her tiny shoulders. “It’s just better now. With you.”

  Wes chose his words carefully. If he’d learned anything from Bethany, it was that women didn’t always need a solution, they just needed to get shit off their chests. His niece definitely didn’t need to hear she was wrong for thinking a certain way, but he wanted to help absolve her of the natural guilt all the same. “Hey.”

  Laura glanced up. “What?”

  “Did you know that only good people can feel guilty?”

  She quirked a skeptical eyebrow, but he had her attention.

  “It’s true. Think about it. You feel guilty because you think your feelings might hurt your mom if she found out.” He waited for her reluctant nod. “If you were a bad person, you wouldn’t care if you hurt someone else.”

  “Oh,” she murmured. “But it would still hurt her.”

  “Maybe. Yeah. But it’s not your job to make other people happy, kid. Especially not the people who are supposed to be making you happy.” He leaned back in his chair and gave her a narrow-eyed look. “Unless you want to let somebody sleep past six A.M. once in a while. That would be totally acceptable.”

  Finally, he caught the ghost of a smile, but her eyes were still troubled.

  “Tell you what,” he said. “I think it’s okay to be happy we’re moving in with Bethany. Why don’t you let yourself be happy for now, as long as you give Mom a chance when she’s able to come back? Does that seem fair?”

  “I still won’t want to. Because . . . if she comes back, you’ll leave.”

  “No.” He shook his head, mostly at himself, for neglecting to find the root of the problem sooner. He hadn’t realized Laura was afraid of him leaving, because no one had ever really been afraid of that before. “I’m sticking around either way, Laura. This is my home now. With you.”

  Tears flooded her eyes. “And Elsa?”

  “Yeah.” His own voice was a little scratchy. “And Elsa.”

  Hopefully.

  Laura hopped out of her seat and ran toward him around the table, wrapping her arms around his neck. “I love you.”

  A knot formed in his throat. “I love you, too.”

  “Can we go to the ice castle now?”

  He laughed, trying to be inconspicuous about swiping at his eyes. “We’d better. It’s rude to keep princesses waiting.”

  Wes was not supposed to be the nervous one.

  Bethany had enough nerves for the both of them. Not to mention, he needed to be confident for his niece’s sake. He didn’t want to present some mirage of stability for the courts—he needed it to be true.

  But he probably should have paid a visit to Bethany’s house prior to moving in because he was not prepared. It was like stepping into a House Beautiful centerfold. There was a plate of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies on the entry table, arranged in perfect stacks with purple flower petals serving as decoration. Candles flickered in huge glass globes from their places on shelves and her immaculate kitchen countertops.

  Her carpet and furniture and goddamn near everything was pristine white.

  He was moving a five-year-old into this place?

  Bethany had stepped aside to let them in and was now crouched down offering Laura a cookie like some gorgeous domestic goddess, but his niece was too agog at her surroundings to reach for the perfectly rounded baked goods.

  “It is an ice palace,” Laura whispered.

  Bethany’s smile faltered a little and she stood, nearly fumbling the plate of cookies until Wes gripped her elbow and steadied her. “Hey.” He leaned in and kissed her mouth softly. “Everything looks amazing.”

  She visibly calmed, and in turn, Wes did, too. Being able to pinpoint her insecurities and talk her out of them reassured him that they could do this.

  They could not, however, keep this place sparkling clean forever.

  Wes caught Laura by the back of her hoodie before she could step her dirty sneaker on the carpet. “Shoes off, kid.” He toed off his boots. “Here, look. I’ll do mine, too.”

  “Is everyone hungry?” Bethany asked brightly, sailing off toward the kitchen. “I made spaghetti sauce—I just have to heat it up. I was thinking we could go check out Laura’s room first and then
eat?”

  Lord, the poor woman. Her heart had to be beating a thousand miles an hour. “That sounds perfect, darlin’.”

  “Great.” She turned on a toe and gestured for them to follow her down the hallway. “Okay, so, it’s not decorated for a young lady just yet, Laura, but I thought we could chat and come up with your own design? Or maybe you want a certain theme . . .”

  She opened the door to reveal a room one might refer to as a chamber.

  More flickering candles. A fluffy cream-colored bedspread.

  A mountain of beaded throw pillows.

  Thick maroon drapes.

  A chandelier.

  “This is my room?”

  Wes held his breath, only letting it out when his niece squealed in delight and cannonballed into the center of the bed. Bethany slumped against the doorjamb, her eyes closing momentarily, and without needing to think, he reached over and braided their fingers together, bringing her hand to his mouth and resting his lips on her wired pulse. Willing it to settle.

  But it spiked a second later when his niece rolled over and sat up, hair in eighteen directions. “Where are you sleeping, Uncle Wes?”

  Bethany shifted. “Oh, um . . .”

  Laura wiggled to the edge of the bed and leapt off, dashing between Wes and Bethany to an open door directly across the hall. She pushed the door open wider, disappearing into the darkness. Wes followed, flipping on the light to find a bedroom much like Laura’s, only with a forest-green color scheme. “You’ll be right across from me!”

  Bethany turned to him with a bemused look. “Yes, isn’t that awesome?”

  “Guess we better ease into this,” he muttered.

  “I’ll miss you tonight,” she whispered on her way out the door.

  “That’s cute that you think you’ll get the chance,” Wes called after her.

  As soon as Bethany was out of sight, he let out a breath and leaned back against the bedroom wall. If both females were happy, he would deem the move-in a success. He might be nursing the worry that he didn’t belong in this perfect postcard of a house—hell, he’d once spent a week in between apartments sleeping in a buddy’s van, and that had only been a goddamn year ago—but he needed to put his insecurities aside and focus on making their relationship stronger.

  Having Bethany in his life was worth the self-doubt. She was worth everything. And when it came to stability, he couldn’t ask for a better living situation for his niece. So if he was feeling completely out of place and his old fears of being someone’s pit stop were starting to make their way to the forefront, he needed to suck it up and ignore them.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Bethany sat at the end of her bed slowly pulling a brush through her hair.

  She’d lit the fire in her hearth for the first time this fall and she smiled into it now, the heat it exuded matching the warmth inside of her. The feel of Laura’s bedtime hug still clung to her, as did the promissory kiss Wes delivered before she’d gone upstairs to bed—and if she kept thinking about it, she wasn’t going to need the fire to stay warm.

  Falling back on her bed, she let the hairbrush drop over the edge to the carpet and stay there. She’d pick it up when she darn well felt like it. These small acts of rebellion against her perfectionist nature were starting to come easier now. Though they would be a necessity now, with a child in the house. There were going to be stains and spilled food and tracked-in mud—and so what?

  If she got this happiness in return? Worth it.

  Worth it times a million.

  Tonight after they’d eaten spaghetti and listened to stories about Laura’s day at school, Wes had helped her clean up the kitchen while his niece literally crash-landed on the couch. There had been a little lurch in her chest when the throw pillows went flying, and Laura definitely hadn’t washed the marinara sauce off her face and hands, but it was nothing a little spot cleaner couldn’t fix. And maybe it was time to think about new couches anyway! Something in a color that didn’t show off every speck of dust that landed on it.

  Maybe Wes could help her pick them out.

  Wow, the mere act of thinking his name made the short silk robe feel extra decadent on her skin. She’d left the lights off, casting the room in nothing but firelight. The dancing flames flickered on the walls and her exposed flesh, reminding her of hands. His hands.

  As much as she loved his ritual of reading to Laura in her room every night, she couldn’t wait for him to come upstairs. Not only because she craved the confident, possessive, starving-man way he touched her, but because she wanted to talk to him. She wasn’t the only one dealing with these huge changes. In the space of a week, he’d applied to become a child’s guardian and moved in with his . . . girlfriend.

  She was Wes’s girlfriend.

  The smile that transformed her mouth was kind of delirious—and it was still in place when there was a knock on her door. Bethany jackknifed so suddenly she got lightheaded, but managed to fall sideways onto her elbow in a seductive pose without tumbling off the bed. “Come in,” she called.

  The door swung open in a slow arc and there was Wes, proving their status as total opposites by arriving shirtless in sweatpants, while she was lotioned to death in a silk negligee.

  “I feel overdressed,” she said.

  “Have to agree,” he drawled, sauntering in, all loose-hipped and cocky, kicking the door shut behind him. “Don’t worry, I have a plan to fix it.”

  “Oh, do you—”

  Bethany broke off with a yelp when Wes snagged her ankle in a no-nonsense grip. She was flipped onto her back and pulled to the edge of the mattress, the silk of her lingerie dragging higher and higher, until it bunched beneath her breasts. With a dangerous wink, Wes leaned down and kissed her belly button with his hot breath. “That got your panties showing, anyway.” He nipped the waistband with his teeth and her flesh sang like a choir of angels. “Pretty little thing, isn’t it?” The tip of his tongue grazed the silk. “Let’s see what it’s hiding.”

  “Wait.” She laughed through a wave of arousal. “Wait . . .”

  Was she borrowing trouble or was Wes coming on even stronger than usual? God knew she didn’t mind—she ached for his weight on top of her—but there was an almost inaudible whisper in her ear saying something was off. They’d just taken this huge step of moving in together and they should talk. How was he handling everything? How did he bring up the subject of moving to his niece and what did she say? Did he like her house or did he think it resembled an ice castle?

  Wes dropped his forehead to her belly. “Stop thinking, Bethany.”

  Was there an edge to his voice? “I just thought we’d talk for a while,” she said, scooting out from beneath him and rising from the bed, the heat from the fire licking her bare calves and thighs. “We have all night, right? We have every night.”

  When they found her, his eyes had softened somewhat. Did that mean they’d been hard before? “Of course we do.” Wes closed the distance between them and used the tie of her robe to pull her into his arms, resting his cheek on the top of her head. “What’s on your mind, baby?”

  “You.”

  His hard body stiffened a degree. “Me?”

  She leaned away to look up at him. “Uh. Yes, you, Wes. You’re taking on all this new responsibility when you weren’t even planning on staying in town—”

  “Now I am staying,” he broke in, reaching down to unknot the tie of her robe and push it off her shoulders. “It’s as simple as that.”

  What was going on with him? “It’s just a huge step.”

  “Why don’t you just tell me what you’re worried about?” he said calmly.

  Too calmly?

  “I’m not worried about anything,” she said quietly. “I want to know if there is anything worrying you.”

  “Not a damn thing,” he said in a firm voice, tipping up her chin so she could look him in the eye. “I’m rock solid, Bethany. Okay? Put your faith in me. I’m here with you because you’ve been m
y woman since the beginning, even before you realized or accepted it. I’m standing right here and I’m staying right here. There is nothing you or anyone could do to make me want to be somewhere I couldn’t hold you.”

  She was at a loss for words, her heart knocking wildly against her ears. What could she say to something so beautiful? That she loved him, yes. But God, they’d moved in together two hours ago; there was plenty of time for that. “Wes,” she whispered, sliding her hands up his chest, into his hair. “I need you.”

  They weren’t the words on her heart. But she still meant it in a way that went beyond physical need. She needed his presence, his love, his heart, his character, his humor, his selflessness, his loyalty, and his Texas temper. She needed all of it. And she wanted to clarify that to Wes, but he said, “Goddamn, I need you, too, baby,” as his mouth traveled down the column of her throat, back up the side of her neck and into her hair, messing it up along with any semblance of rational thought or self-control.

  Greedy hands shoved at the straps of her negligee, yanking it down to her waist so he could get his mouth on her breasts. As soon as the silk fell to the floor, leaving her in nothing but panties, his hands took hold of her backside and lifted Bethany onto her toes so he could suck her nipples, drawing them into the warmth of his mouth with long, guttural groans and teasing her with flickering licks.

  Both times she and Wes had made love, there was a wicked urgency behind it, but Bethany sensed a change in him tonight. Something different. Almost like he was desperate to overwhelm her senses and fortunately—or unfortunately—it was working. So well. He didn’t let her come up for air once, his mouth working magic on her breasts, his index fingers hooking in the sides of her panties and sending them floating to her ankles. It was everything she could do just to keep her balance.

  “I’m rock solid,” he said, finding her mouth once more and demolishing it with a hot, marauding tongue. “You’re not just getting words tonight, either. You’re going to feel it.” He slapped her bottom, enough to smart, enough to rake her body with goosebumps and steal her breath. “You’ll feel it best from your hands and knees. Will you do that for me?”