Ginger's Heart (A Modern Fairytale, #3)(55)

Pulling her hair into a ponytail, she grinned at herself in the mirror before hurrying downstairs barefoot, glad to still hear the sound of the hose splashing across Gran’s windshield.

She took a frying pan from the cabinet beside the stove and set it atop the burner, then pulled a carton of eggs from her refrigerator. As she set them on the counter, she cocked her head to the side, looking out the window over the sink to steal a glimpse of Cain. Between their quick “Good morning” and now, he’d taken off his T-shirt, probably to keep it dry as he rinsed off the truck he’d lovingly scrubbed.

His collarbone winged out from the base of his throat, strong and solid. As she followed the void between the bones down the black-haired valley from his neck to the V of muscle that disappeared into his jeans, she felt her face flush with heat. Slipping her gaze higher, she tracked the ripples of his abdomen, which led to his firm pecs, and— God damn it!

That was precisely the moment Cain looked up and caught her staring. She felt her eyes go wide as dinner plates and took a step to the side, away from the window, her heart pounding uncomfortably as she heard his bellow of laughter.

“Someone’s a peeping princess!” he yelled, spraying her kitchen window with the hose, and she reached up to place her palms against her cheeks, a soft giggle escaping as she shook her head in embarrassment.

After a moment, she remembered what she was supposed to be doing and whirled around to grab the comp’ny butter from the cupboard, slicing off a soft glop and shaking it into the hot frying pan. Four eggs followed, and when she put the carton back in the fridge, she pulled out the bread, putting two slices in the toaster and pressing the lever.

About two minutes later, the eggs were ready, and she was buttering Cain’s toast as he stepped inside, his T-shirt back on.

“Didn’t want to distract you from your breakfast,” he teased, taking off his hat and placing it on a peg beside the door.

Her cheeks, which had just gone back to normal, flushed again, but she didn’t care. Cain was here in her kitchen having breakfast, which made her so happy, it should have scared her. But all she saw was Cain, finally home again, in her home, back in her life, where her heart was sure he belonged.

“Still a cocky so-and-so,” she observed, pouring them each a mug of coffee.

“Says the gal oglin’ me from her kitchen window.”

“You know what, Cain?” she said, pivoting around with the coffee in her hands.

“No. Tell me what, Gin,” he volleyed back, sitting down at her small table and looking up at her with a twinkle in his eyes.

She giggled, shaking her head at him as she would at a naughty boy who was incorrigible and adorable. “I’m glad you’re home.”

“Is that right?” he asked.

“That’s right,” she whispered, holding his eyes until his smile faded and his eyes grew dark and hot.

Finally he swallowed, looking down at the eggs she’d prepared. “No frozen pizza, I see.”

She placed the coffee in front of him and sat down at the other chair across from him. “I make good on my promises, Cain.”

He picked up his fork, about to dig in, when he suddenly stopped, looking up at her, seizing her eyes with a sort of desperate, grateful gaze. His lips tilted up as he speared some egg on his fork. “I’m glad to be home too.”

***

After breakfast, they went for another ride, dismounting again by the river and walking the horses side by side. As they meandered over the woods and meadows of Glenndale County, Cain told her about his last three years in the service—little anecdotes that made her smile, and even a few that made her eyes tear up. And what it all added up to was a man who was vastly more contented than the boy he’d been when he left, the sum of which made Ginger’s heart burst with happiness because a happy Cain might be a Cain who had room in his life for her.

“It’s like I was always meant to be a damage controlman,” he said, threading and rethreading Thunder’s reins through his fingers as they ambled at a steady pace. “I never loved horses, you know?”

“I did know,” she said. “I could tell.”

“I liked machinery.”

“Like your motorcycle.”

“Uh-huh. Like my bike. I never . . . I mean, don’t take this the wrong way, Gin, but I never really felt like I fit in here. In Apple Valley.” He scuffed the tip of his work boot on some pebbles dotting the path through Conrad’s Meadow. “Only thing that made it bearable was you and Woodman.”

“And the girls at the distillery,” she said, giving him a sidelong glance.

He chuckled softly. “Yeah, I guess. And them. But you know they didn’t mean nothin’ to me. Not like you and Woodman.”

They walked in silence for a few moments while Ginger savored the welcome warmth of his words. When she looked up at him, his angular face seemed almost soft in its own way—like for once he wasn’t fighting where he was or whom he was with, like he might actually be content.

“I’m glad that you and Woodman patched things up.”

Cain flicked a glance at her before nodding slowly. “Yeah. Me too. Almost f*cked things up between us for good when I . . . when you and me, well, you know.”

“Woodman didn’t have a claim on me, Cain. I wanted you to kiss me.”