will only blow up in our faces.” Cody pulled her to him and she felt the hard ridge of his erection throb against her stomach.
“But what an explosion it’d be.”
“Who knew anger could be such a fucking turn-on?” he whispered.
Shelby grabbed the front of his shirt, she’d iron it later, and yanked him down, wrapping herself around him, because the alternative was to crumple to the floor. Cody moaned, his desire completely unfiltered. Melding their lips even tighter, he kissed her silly, in that way that only Cody could do.
After he hoisted her up so they were more evenly matched, she wrapped her legs around his stomach and squeezed. He set her onto the counter, the bare skin on her legs pressing into the cool tile, the skirt of her dress catching on a line of grout, his legs pushing at her inner thighs.
He was hot and angry and turned on all at the same time and Shelby couldn’t help but smile against his mouth. This was one of those rare moments when Cody’s need for self-control got lost in the passion. Exposing the man who had stolen her heart, the one she had fallen in love with.
“You know what’s going to happen now, Shelby Lynn,” he whispered, his lips trailing lower, teasing her breasts. The pull of his mouth was so intense that her nipples ached through the cotton dress.
“What?” she whispered, her hands tearing at the buttons on his shirt. She’d just buy him a new one.
“I’m going to carry you up those stairs, toss you on that big bed.” His teeth nipped at her peak and she gasped. “And then you’re going to pack up your things and get your pretty little ass off my property.”
Shelby snatched her hands back. It was as if she had been doused with a bucket of cold water. The past came rushing back, destroying the fragile bond they had just created.
She was confused.
And hurt.
What had just happened?
What was she doing?
And why, even though he was being a domineering jerk, did she want to go back to kissing him? The only thing that made sense was that she was messing everything up.
Scooting off the counter, she shoved past Cody and straightened her dress. She felt every ounce of shame, not to mention a good dose of anger, as it crept up her body. Preston had said she was as passionate as an ice cube, and maybe she was trying to prove him wrong. Or maybe it just felt good, after so many years of being told how disappointing she was as a woman, to feel desirable.
Whatever the reason, one brush of his lips and she had been willing to forget the past, forget that heartache, forget the lies, forget why she was here. Forget he was wearing starch.
Shelby met his gaze head-on. She wouldn’t be bossed around by one more man. And she wouldn’t be intimidated into leaving the only place that had ever felt like a home. She was no longer that love-hungry kid, ready to shoulder the blame if it meant not being alone.
“Scare tactics won’t work. And wherever my pretty little . . . backside decides to go, is none of your business. Not anymore.”
“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?” A long, tense moment passed before Cody threw his hands up in surrender. “You know what, you’re right. You, thank God, are no longer my problem. Bottom line is—you’re trespassing and you need to leave. Now.”
“If you came all this way just to tell me to get out, you wasted a trip,” Shelby said, her voice low and calm. “This is my home. Silas gave me permission to stay on as long as I like. And until you and your brothers . . .” she trailed off, eyeing him accusingly.
At least have the decency to look embarrassed, she thought. He had lied to her about so many things—well, left out crucial parts of his past, which to her was as bad as lying. Finding out he had a whole family that he’d never told her about, been too embarrassed to introduce her to, had hurt the most.
“Until you finish out your twelve months, the house remains in probate, and I am free to stay.” Shelby rested her hands on her hips, a sign that she wasn’t going anywhere. And made a note to thank Gina for the legal jargon.
“Damn it, Shelby Lynn.” Cody ran a hand down his stubbled jaw. “I don’t want you here. Too much is going on right now.”
She ignored the familiar sting. “Well, too bad, I’m staying.”
“You don’t belong here.”
That would leave a mark, she thought. The full impact of his statement cut as deep as if it had been a physical blow. Everything in her brain seemed to freeze as she stood paralyzed, in the middle of the kitchen, staring up at him, and willing her eyes to stay dry.
To Shelby, it seemed she’d spent her whole life trying to belong, to find a place that was hers. And for a brief moment, all those years ago with Cody, she’d stupidly thought she had. Then came the pain of rejection and the realization that in the end she wasn’t enough to make him happy.
Her heart still bore the scars.
The screen door’s hinge squeaked on its axis with enough force to combat the stiffness of a half century of openings and closings. Shelby forgot about Cody, forgot about their fight, forgot about everything the moment she saw Jacob standing there.
Dropping his backpack to the floor, his eyes narrowed in challenge.
How much had he heard?
If the stubborn set of his jaw and the way he stormed across the floor, placing his body between Cody and herself, were any indication—too much.
Jake looked much older than his nine years. Seeing him face-to-face with Cody broke Shelby’s heart. Until he’d been born, she’d never experienced the wonderful feeling of family. And to this day she never understood how Cody could have walked away.
Jake’s eyes settled on Cody, hard and unyielding. “What did you say to my mama?”
Shelby’s heart turned painfully in her chest. Dear God, this was not how it was supposed to happen.
Cody stood in his mama’s kitchen, his own scared eyes looking back at him, and the past was closing in with every breath he took. His mind raced through all of the implications.
The cute nose, cornflower eyes, and dusting of freckles might have been Shelby’s but everything else was his. Right down to the stubborn gleam flashing in the kid’s eyes and the thick, dark curls he and his brothers had hated growing up. Even the protective jut of the boy’s chin, which said he’d take on anyone who tried to mess with his mama, was a carbon copy of his own.
Son of a bitch. He had a son.
Cody Tucker, the guy who’d sworn off ever having kids for fear of the kind of man he was deep down inside, was a father.
This is my son. My own flesh and blood. A feeling too difficult to articulate and so unfamiliar overwhelmed him. Until he saw the accusation staring back at him.
Bile rose up, churning with anger and sheer impotence. Doing a quick calculation, Cody estimated the boy to be around nine. Nine years of bedtime stories, tossing the ball
