Along Came Trouble(132)

“You have some in your hair.” He brought his hands together to fold the tarp lengthwise, and Ellen did the same.

They flipped the tarp flat, and Caleb walked toward her to match the ends. When he got close, their fingers met, and he handed over his corners of the tarp while his mouth moved over hers in a long, slow, lazy kiss that made her wish Henry’s bedtime were a whole lot sooner.

“Any chance I tired him out enough that you can put him to bed early?” Caleb asked.

“Not unless you want to get up with him at five in the morning.”

Caleb wrapped his hand around the back of her head and kissed her again, pulling her close enough to crush the tarp between them. This kiss wasn’t so slow and lazy. This kiss dissolved her inner thighs. “Tonight,” he said.

“Tonight,” she agreed. “We’ll make it good.”

“We always make it good.”

“But this time you raked my leaves, so I’ll make it extra good.”

He smiled. “I didn’t do that for sex, but I’ll take it.”

“I know you will.” She knew why he’d done it, too. The leaves had been another item in their protracted wedding negotiations.

She glanced over at Henry. He was walking backward, holding on to the rake with both hands and dragging it toward them, grunting in a pantomime of grown-up effort.

“I’ve been thinking about what I owe you,” she said when Caleb released her. She made the final fold of the tarp against her stomach and started walking toward the garage. “About setting a date.”

Caleb was right at her heels. “And?” He caught her shoulder and spun her around.

“I’m thinking end of February.”

“That’s an interesting choice. Can I ask . . .”

“I’m thinking Jamaica,” she added.

That put a smile on his face. “Ah. Jamaica gives a whole different spin to February.”

“Small ceremony, hot sand, lots of drinks with little umbrellas on them.” She smiled. “We’ll make a great escape of it.”

“Do you need to escape? I thought we were doing pretty good here.”

“We are. I just like the idea of a new beginning in a new place.”

He dipped his head and kissed her again. “If you like it, I like it.”

Henry came barreling up, dragging the rake behind him. “Fruit snacks,” he said, and dropped the handle strategically between her legs and Caleb’s, forcing them apart.

“I love you,” she told Caleb as she backed up a step.

“Fruit snacks,” Henry insisted.

Caleb grinned in that way he had. That way that told her, the morning they met, that the two of them were a team, and they were in this together, and they were going to have a hell of a lot of fun. “Fruit snacks it is.” He met Ellen’s eyes. “And I love you, too.”

She admired the wedge of his back as he walked inside ahead of her, guiding Henry with a hand on his shoulder.

That first morning, she had thought he was trouble. She was so sure that Caleb had come along to upset her routines, fracture her independence, and she wouldn’t be able to carry on along the narrow path she’d made for herself.

She’d been right. But as it turned out, trouble was exactly what she needed.





Acknowledgments



This book owes its existence to Faye Robertson, who read six thousand words that I’d dashed off in a random outburst of creative effusion and demanded more Caleb, stat. Faye fell in love with him long before I did. I thought I was working on a subplot. Silly me.

I also owe a debt of gratitude to my agent, Emily Sylvan Kim, whose praise for the first draft of this book gave me the courage to turn it into a longer, fuller story. When I set out to write this book, I assumed it would turn out to be a longish category romance. Silly me, redux.

But my editor, Sue Grimshaw, deserves most of my thanks for Along Came Trouble, because Sue did me the immense favor of not liking the book. At all. Her comments upon first reading it guided me through months of rewriting, and they made the book much, much better. Whatever pockets of suckage may remain are my fault, not hers, and are probably a consequence of my being stubborn.

I reserve a heaping platter of gratitude for my good friend Serena Bell, whose conferences via Twitter DM kept me sane during the revision process. It might be possible to revise successfully without a good friend at whom one can incessantly spew one’s neurotic thoughts, but I don’t want to try it. Thanks to Serena, I didn’t have to.