The Renegade (The Moorehouse Legacy #3)(24)

“Later. She said her brother likes to talk.”

“You going to be okay here all by yourself?”

“Yes. Yes, thank you.”

He lingered for a moment by the door. “Good night, then.”

*

Alex waved Spike off and let himself into the shop. The fire had burned down in the potbellied stove, so it was cold. He restoked the embers and sat on the bed, but a minute later he was outside, carefully walking over the lawn to the lake. The snowstorm had arrived, thick flakes falling in the cold night air. The chilly wind blowing off the water whittled away his clothing and seeped into his skin, going deep into his bones.

Reese meant a lot to me. So of course I miss him.

Alex stepped out onto the dock, moving cautiously so he didn’t slip.

Her words had not been those of a heartbroken woman, he thought. And her tone had been flat. Factual.

Somehow he’d assumed she’d be a wreck.

He looked down at the churning water, a cold spray hitting his legs as waves jumped at the dock and splintered.

He told himself he should be impressed that Cassandra was moving on. New lover. New project. Soon, a new home. He was sure Reese would have approved of her making a fresh start.

But that was yet another reason why his friend had deserved her and he didn’t. If Alex had been her husband, he would have wanted her to mourn him every day for the rest of her life. He would want her to be as ruined as he’d be if he lost her.

And didn’t that make him a real prince.

He stared at the lake until his body grew so cold his large muscle groups started twitching to generate heat. He went back to the shop and shook the snow out of his hair. Then he stripped naked and put on a fresh pair of socks. When he was settled on the bed, he shut his eyes.

Images of Cassandra came to him in the darkness. He pictured her eyes, green as fresh June leaves on a maple tree. He saw her tongue coming out for a little lick after she’d finished drinking. He recalled those black leggings stretched over her thighs and hips as she bent down to pet Ernest.

Alex’s body came alive, lust chasing away the lingering chill. He grew heavy and hard between his legs, aching for her.

He rolled over and punched his pillow. The sheets shifting against his arousal made his jaw clench, and when he arched his back to try and release some tension, the heat rose even further. He pictured her lying beneath his naked body, her red hair in a wild tumble over his pillow, her skin so soft against his. He imagined being joined with her, going deep and sliding free only to plunge in again. He felt her grabbing on to his back as he drove his hips, heard his name on her lips as she climaxed.

Afterward, he saw himself holding her and watching her fall asleep.

Alex cursed in the darkness. The bastard in him just refused to let go of her. Even with all his guilt, even with the horrible knowledge of what he’d done, he couldn’t control the visions or the hunger.

But he could make himself pay.

Lying in the dark, he opened himself up to the pain of wanting what he couldn’t have, knowing he deserved every last bit of what ailed him.

On the twin bed that was too small to hold him, he suffered and was glad for it.





Chapter Seven




A week later Cassandra parked the Rover at White Caps, grabbed her clipboard and headed for the house. As she passed by the Dumpster, she noted it was time for a pickup. Especially as they were going to tackle the Sheetrock removal in the dining room next.

Just before she went into the house, she looked up at the shop.

A big shape moved out of the picture window.

Alex had been watching her. Again.

He seemed to do that each time she came and went, and he always ducked away when she glanced toward the barn.

After their dinner together, she really wanted to reach out to him, she just wasn’t sure how. Though if she was honest, she didn’t only want to have him talk more about his grief. She wanted to learn other things about him. The glimpse she’d had of the man underneath the legend had been captivating.

So was the idea that he was warming up to her a little.

As Tim’s truck came down the drive, she waved.

“Mornin’, boss,” he said as he got out. Lee and Greg were right behind him in the Trans Am. Then Bobbie pulled up in his truck.

The morning flew by, and when three-o’clock quitting time got close, Cassandra was exhausted from ripping out all the bathroom mirrors and vanities upstairs. She headed down to the kitchen and found the men clustered around a stubborn cabinet section they’d been trying to get free for the past week. They referred to the thing as Chunk, and when they weren’t cursing at it, they were paying respect to its death grip on the house.

Chunk notwithstanding, the crew had done great work, and if they kept up this pace, she could have the plumber and the electrician start ahead of schedule. Re-piping and re-wiring White Caps was going to take some time, and with Christmas and New Year’s coming up, they were going to lose a good ten days.

During the holidays everyone was taking a hiatus from the project. She was going back to Manhattan; the men were going to enjoy time off with their families. She told herself it would be good to get away because she’d been working long hours and not sleeping all that well. But she wasn’t in a big hurry to leave the lake.

Her first Christmas without Reese, she thought. Her first birthday without him, too.