putting you on notice. You brought me along. Now you have to put up with me.”
“I want to show you the cabin.” There. He knew he’d had a reason for bringing her. “But I need a minute to myself first.”
“You need to do something with all the stuff churning around inside you, all right. Try talking.”
“I’m not in the mood for amateur therapy.”
“You know, people were talking—sometimes even listening—for a few thousand years before Freud called it therapy.”
He gave her an ugly look. “You won’t let it be, will you? You have to poke and prod and try to fix me.”
“I used to do that. It was a mistake.”
His eyebrows went up. “You’re admitting it?”
“Astonishing, isn’t it? But I wasn’t the only one. We both tried to fix each other. Your technique was a little different, that’s all.” She shrugged. “Young and stupid sums it up, I guess. We fell hard and immediately started trying to change each other into people it would be safer to love.”
Love. The word scraped across places already raw. “You found plenty that needed fixing, didn’t you? There wasn’t that much that you liked about me back then.”
She winced. “I can see where you got that impression, but it isn’t true. There was plenty I liked. And,” she admitted, “one or two things I couldn’t live with.”
She’d made that plain. Restless, he started walking. “Why did you come back, Dixie?”
She fell into step with him. “You keep asking me that.”
He didn’t know what kind of answer he was looking for. Just that he hadn’t gotten it yet.
What was wrong with him, anyway? He’d planned to bring Dixie to his cabin after lunch—but he’d been hoping for a little afternoon delight, not a session mucking around in his least pleasant memories. Not to mention his least pleasant self. “I’m acting like an idiot, aren’t I? Sorry.” He made himself smile.
She stopped. “Don’t do that.”
“Don’t do what? Be pleasant? Polite?”
“Don’t put on a happy face for me.”
“What if it isn’t for you?” he snapped. “Maybe I need to remind myself I can be civilized.”
She stood there, shoulders straight, eyes narrowed as she studied him. God, he used to love the way she faced off with him, not backing down an inch…Cole took a deep breath. Some things it was best not to remember too clearly. “Walk with me a bit, okay?”
“Okay.” And that was all she said.
Cole headed for one of his favorite paths, a deer trail that led to a small meadow that was green and pretty now. It would be spectacular in the spring, he thought. Dixie would love it when the wildflowers burst into bloom.
But she wouldn’t be here in the spring, would she?
Carpe the damn diem, then. If all he had was another week or so, he’d better make the most of them. “What did you think of my cabin? I realize you haven’t seen much of it yet.”
“I love it. But it wasn’t what I’d been expecting.”
“What were you expecting?”
The path was too narrow for them to walk abreast, so she was following him. He couldn’t see her teasing smile, but he heard it in her voice. “Something more rustic. A lot more rustic. You did say you’d done a lot of the work yourself.”
“You lack confidence in my carpentry.”
“I didn’t think you knew one end of a saw from the other.”
“I didn’t, to start out with,” he admitted. “After the wall fell down, I took a couple courses.”
She laughed. “It really fell down? Which one?”
As he told her the story of his early, botched attempt at fixing up his place, a wave of relief swept through him. They’d be okay. As long as they kept it light, didn’t let things get intense, they’d be fine.
At the end of the tree-shrouded path lay his meadow. His heart lifted as he stepped from shade to sun. There was nothing vast or magnificent about this spot. The beauties here were small and common, but something about the shape of the pocket-size meadow seemed to cup the sunshine, to gather and soften it. He could have sworn the grass grew a little greener here, waving gently in a breeze the trees had blocked. Off to the west a towhee called its name—to-whee, to-whee.
“Oh…” Dixie stopped several paces behind him and turned in a slow circle. “A little piece of perfection, isn’t it?”
Her response pleased him. “This is the other reason I bought the place.”
“It’s lovely.” She stood motionless and smiling, glossed by sunshine. The breeze teased her hair and pressed her thin blue dress against a shape that was pure female.
Longing hit, a sweep of emotion that made him feel larger, lighter, full of air and dreams…then receded, leaving him mute and unsteady.
“Cole?” She tilted her head. “Is something wrong?”
“Probably.” He’d been wrong. Terribly wrong. He didn’t want a few days of friendly, keep-it-light sex from her. He wanted more. Much more.
He walked slowly up to her.
Nerves flickered in her eyes. She knew what was on his mind, oh yes. She didn’t back up—but she wanted to, he could see that. Instead she tilted her head back, frowning. “What flipped your switch?”
“You.” He put his hands on her arms and ran them up to her shoulders, letting the warmth of her seep into his palms. “You always have.”
“I don’t think this—”
“Good. Don’t think.” He crushed his mouth down on hers.
She jolted. He knew that, but only dimly—the ripe taste of her flooded him, a wine more heady than sweet. He pulled her tight against him, running his hands over her, feeding on the feel of her, the scent and taste and heat that was Dixie.
It wasn’t enough. He needed more—needed enough of her that she wouldn’t leave, couldn’t leave him again. His arms tightened around her.
And, dammit to hell, as soon as he did that, she started struggling. Pushing him away.
Cole had to drop his arms and let her go. Again. And it hurt, again.
Her mouth was wet, her hair wildly mussed and her eyes snapping with anger. “I won’t be forced.”
It was guilt that made him snap back. “Forced? It was a kiss!”
“You were going
