Always On My Mind (The Sullivans #8)(35)

She couldn’t stop the tears from falling down her cheeks, and not just because he was gripping he shoulders nearly hard enough to leave bruises. “I’m not a dancer anymore.”

He stared at her for a long moment, the sparks of heat and anger and a still undeniable connection going off between them, before he dropped his hands from her shoulders. “No, you obviously never were a real dancer if you’re able to give up this easily.”

She didn’t have to stay here and listen to his insults. She could go work on someone else’s farm. She could clean someone else’s toilets until they sparkled and keep their chickens and pigs fed and weed their rows of vegetables. Not, of course, that she needed the money, considering she had plenty socked away from some of her higher-profile gigs. It was just that she couldn’t imagine not having something to do, being left with her thoughts all day long. Even cleaning a stranger’s bathrooms would be better than that.

Without saying another word, she made a beeline for the farmhouse, kicking her dirty shoes off on the porch before going inside. Just because she wouldn’t be cleaning Grayson’s house anymore didn’t mean she needed to make it harder for the poor person he tricked into replacing her.

Only, just as she walked into her bedroom and yanked her suitcase out from under the bed, she heard a sound that had her chest clenching tight. She ran out to the living room, where Sweetpea was coughing and shivering on top of her blanket.

No, not now. She couldn’t deal with this, too, not when her heart was already torn to pieces.

Lori scooped the cat up into her arms, pressing her lips to the soft, hairless spot between its ears. “Poor baby,” she said as she rocked it in her arms. “Poor, poor baby. You feel rotten, don’t you?” She kissed it again. “It’s been that kind of day for me, too.”

Grayson walked in, but she was so concerned about the cat who had been her one true friend for the past week, that his presence barely registered. While Grayson had been God-knew-where avoiding her the past few days, Lori had spent many hours with Sweetpea sleeping warm and purring on her lap, stroking the cat’s bony back as she tried to get her to eat the food and drink the milk she brought her every few hours. She’d been about to leave to save what was left of her heart, but now she knew that, no matter how much it hurt to be near Grayson, she needed to stay for the one true friend she’d made on his farm.

“Don’t worry, Sweetpea,” she told her furry friend. “I’m not going to leave. Not as long as you need me.”

* * *

When Grayson stepped into the house and saw Lori with his cat in her arms and heard her make the promise to stay no matter what, the relief that flooded him was so strong it nearly buckled his knees.

Before the storm, before they’d ended up in the cabin, he’d wanted her. But now that he’d touched her, tasted her, he realized that earlier wanting amounted to little more than the buzzing of a fly around his ears. He’d known that he’d pay for those moments of weakness in the cabin, and boy, was he. Because how could he possibly ever regret knowing how soft, how sweet Lori had felt in his arms, how shockingly sweet the sound of her moans, her gasps of pleasure, had been as she came?

And how could he ever forgive himself for the way he’d just lashed out at her, when he knew all she was trying to do was help him? Especially when she’d told him that she’d come to his farm to take a break not only from dancing, but also from men.

He knew he couldn’t be what she needed, but he shouldn’t have to hurt her to prove that.

“Lori,” he said in a low voice as he approached her, “I promised I wouldn’t do that to you again. I broke my promise.” He felt like he was swallowing fire as he said, “I’m sorry.”

God, he would have given up every one of his thousand acres just to see her smile up at him, just to hear her say, “You’re forgiven,” again like she had the day he’d lost it over the pigs and had offered to take her to buy cowboy boots.

Of course, he knew that wasn’t going to happen, not when he’d crossed over the line—way the hell over it—with her just now.

“We both know you meant every word you said to me,” she replied in an even voice, though her eyes flashed with fire. “And I meant every word I said to you. But don’t worry.” She stroked a gentle hand over Mo’s patchy fur and the cat gave a soft purr of joy at being showered with such pure, sweet love. “As soon as Sweetpea doesn’t need me anymore, I’ll be out of your hair.” Lori sneezed before adding, “And until then, we can just stay out of each other’s way as much as possible.”

She turned her full attention back to the cat, then, and he knew he’d been dismissed. So completely that he might never have been there at all.

Leave. He should leave, go back to his room, take a shower, and hit the sack to make up for all the sleep he hadn’t been able to get with Lori only a wall away at night—with visions of her naked and beautiful beneath her sheets running through his head on repeat until sunrise.

But he knew she had to be hungry after the long day she’d put in, so instead of leaving, he started to pull together dinner. Thirty minutes later, after having listened to Lori sneeze practically the entire time, he had two plates of spaghetti ready for both of them.

“Dinner’s ready,” he told her.

“I’m not hungry.”