Animal Prints: Sweet Small Town Contemporary Romance (Michigan Moonlight Book 1) (24 page)

Colette stretched when she woke, reaching a hand out to find Ian in her bed. When she touched nothing but cool sheets, she opened her eyes. No Ian. She lay still, listening. No sounds reached her from anywhere in the house. After a moment, she rolled out of bed and grabbed her robe. Maybe he was in the kitchen or working on his laptop to look at some pictures.

She wandered downstairs calling for him, but only the dogs greeted her, looking for their breakfast. After she fed them, she checked outside for Ian’s car. It was gone. No sign of him anywhere except on the mantle, where the photo of the two of them stood. She thought back to the night before. He’d brought nothing in the house with him.

Was that his plan? Did he mean to come back for one night then leave? His work at Boyne was nearly done as were his interviews in the area. Could he leave just like that? She sank down on the bottom step and put her head in her hands, rubbing her eyes to keep the tears from coming. Usually, she loved the quiet of the morning; today, it was oppressively lonely. The other night, she’d all but asked him to stay with her forever. Had her words shoved him away?
 

With a groan, she admitted to herself that she couldn’t have been more obvious if she had asked to have his baby. A thought that was growing increasingly appealing in her mind. Damn it. Why did relationships have to be so hard? This was her fault. She wanted too much, got too attached, then they were over. Apparently, without a word.
 

Romeo stuck his nose in her face and sniffed at the tears. She hugged the dog close for a moment, burying her head in his slim neck. Rising, she stomped up the stairs to shower and get dressed. A few hours of hard work in the barn might take the edge off. Animals were far superior to men. Her animals would stay until she found a better place for them. They were loyal and caring. They didn’t slink off in the night.
 

Out in the barn, Colette put the animals in their respective pastures and mucked out stalls. The smell of hay and manure that some might find repugnant was instead comforting to her. She’d spent more happy days in this barn than she could remember and if she was still doing that by herself when she was old and gray, so be it.
 

In the hayloft, she took a moment to pet one of the barn cats. Poor thing only had one eye and no tail, but she was a heck of a mouser not to mention highly prolific if judged by the mewing of kittens coming from under a pile of loose hay. With surprise, Colette gently uncovered the kittens. Not more than a week old. How had she missed their birth?
 

Too obsessed with other problems. She squatted, rocking back on her heels to watch them for a bit. Well, not anymore. One of her distractions was gone. She’d get through the fundraiser in two weeks, make it clear to Northfield she wasn’t selling, and concentrate on her animals. They, at least, always needed her.

When she was tossing bales of hay down to the stalls, she heard a sound near the barn door. She walked to the edge of the loft to see below with a bale still in her gloved hands. Ian stood in the sunlight of the open door with a cup of coffee in one hand and brown paper bag in the other.

“Colette, you in here?” He called. “Brought you some coffee and a doughnut.” A hay bale hit the ground near him and he stepped back to look up at her. “You don’t want a doughnut?”

“What are you doing here?” she demanded.

Ian glanced over his shoulder to see if someone was behind him, then shrugged. “Bringing you coffee.” He raised the cup in her direction. “What’s the matter?”

“I thought you left,” Colette said, starting to feel foolish, but sounding nonetheless petulant.

“I did leave to take some pictures down at the lakeshore. I drove over to park at Lexy’s house so I was closer to the water, then she gave me food. Does she give everyone food?”

“Yeah. Doesn’t make you special.” Colette climbed down the ladder from the loft and stripped off her gloves. She reached for the coffee, still upset.

Ian held the coffee just out of her reach. “You thought I left, like, forever.” He sounded puzzled.

“You didn’t leave a note or bring anything into the house last night,” she said, not losing the edge of anger. “It would have been an easy escape.”
 

“Is that what you think I want? You know something?” He put the drink and bag down on an upside down bucket. “You’re pissing me off.”
 

“I’m pissing you off?” She came closer and poked him in the chest. “You’re the one who left without saying a word.”

“For a couple hours to take pictures. That can’t surprise you.” He folded his fingers around hers to stop the prodding. “And just for the record I left you a text message and a voice mail. I didn’t see a notepad because it was still dark and I didn’t want to rifle through your drawers.” His eyes pierced into her. “You should listen to your inbox every once in a while. I left you a message Friday night, too. Did you get that one?”

“I never checked the messages,” she said to him, sounding haughty, but dodging his gaze guiltily. “There were assholes calling.”

“Me? Ouch.”

“No! Not you!”
 

“Well, your inbox is full now so you better do something.” He dropped her hand, but refused to back away, his keen eyes focused on her.

The cow’s mooing and the rustlings of leaves were the only sounds. Colette’s heart beat fast in her chest, but the tough exterior started to wilt. “Why’d you call Friday?”

“‘Cause it’d been a shitty day and I wanted to hear your voice.”

Maybe that explained the haunted expression on his face when he’d arrived last night. “What happened?” she asked, softly.

“I went to see my dad in Chicago. Figured I was already in Gary, I might as well go into the city.” He looked away toward the cherry trees. “After ten years, you think I wouldn’t get upset by him anymore. I guess age doesn’t help,” he said, his voice full of disgust and resentment.

She rested her hand on his forearm. “What’d he say?”
 

“The usual.” He moved suddenly, brushing her off, and strode back to his car. “Skip it. Doesn’t matter.”
 

“Wait!” She caught up to him, grabbing his elbow and spinning him around. “So that’s it? That’s as much as you’re going to tell me.” She kept her voice level and her eyes focused on his.

“It’s already more than you need to know,” he said, his tone flat and distant. He broke loose from her and kept walking.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” She yelled after him, frustrated with his attitude. “I think at this point you can trust me enough to tell me about your dad.”

“Trust?” He echoed her, reaching the car and turned to face her. “You want me to trust you? Why? You don’t trust me. You think I’m going to leave your life as suddenly as I came into it without a word. You don’t trust me because of some asshole two years ago. Don’t lecture me about trust.” He flung the car door open.

“So now you
are
leaving,” she screeched, wincing at her own words. “I guess that proves I’m right.”

“Son of a bitch, woman. I’m not leaving. Haven’t I made that clear? I’m getting my stuff and taking it into your house. Hell, I’ll probably even claim some closet space.” He slung a camera over his shoulder and picked up his suitcase. “That make you happy?”
 

She stomped up the back steps of the house and held the door open for him. “I emptied the third drawer in my dresser for you yesterday, and I hate it when people spill toothpaste in the sink and don’t clean it up. I’m going back to the barn.” She let the door slam shut behind him and she waited on the steps, trembling from head to foot. She drew in a shaky breath, but wasn’t sure why. She needed to get away from him, to think.
 

In the barn, she sought refuge from her own raging emotions. Why had she gotten so upset? Why had he? Oh, he must have felt like he was unwanted and it was all her fault. Why couldn’t she have been rational and realized he was just taking pictures? In the tack room, she sat on a bench and tucked her legs beneath her. Tipping her head against the rough, wooden wall, she closed her eyes and took in a series of slow breaths.
 

There was only one answer to her questions. She was in love with him but the fear of losing him was overwhelming. When she admitted it to herself, the fear diminished slightly, but raised more questions. Could she just march in the house and declare her love for him? Was it that simple? What if he ran for it then? What if
she
ran for it then? From what he said, he planned to stay, but doubts still lingered.
 

She needed time before she went back in the house. Her emotions would be obvious, especially to someone as observant as Ian. Her glance landed on the abandoned coffee and doughnut. He’d thought to bring her food to show he cared. That’s what she did too. She nourished creatures of all sizes and kinds, particularly the strays like Ian. She got attached to her animals and kept them. Ian was no different, but she couldn’t face him now. She grabbed a notepad and made a list of chores to complete. When she was done with those, she might be able to go in the house.
 

She was working her way through the list when a car honked in the driveway, catching her attention. When she walked out of the barn, she found Ian’s car still sat where it had been, although she half expected it to be gone. A pizza delivery car pulled up to the house. Ian came out to pay the driver. When he spied her, he pointed to the food and disappeared into the house. Her stomach growled at the thought of a meal. She’d been working for hours on only the doughnut left in the barn.
 

She entered the house through the mudroom to wash up. A small whiteboard she remembered buying months ago now hung on the door going into the kitchen. A dry erase marker sat in the tray. The words “I’m in the kitchen. E.” were scrawled across the white surface in bright red marker.
Okay, she thought, so he wants to play house.
Still, it made her smile, even if the writing was a little…irritated-looking. In the kitchen, the table was set for two with her grandmother’s china from the hutch and wine glasses. A vase of flowers picked from her garden stood over the pizza box. Ian pulled the cork from a bottle of red and eyed her across the room.

“Little fancy for Sunday afternoon,” she commented before sitting down.

“Maybe.” He poured wine into the glasses. “I’d have cooked, but I’m waiting for you to teach me how.” He opened the box for her to take a slice of pizza before taking one himself. “Are we going to talk about it or pretend it didn’t happen?”

“Damn, I didn’t even get a bite.” After a long sip of wine, she said, “I’m sorry I screamed at you, but I don’t like being shutout. It doesn’t help my trust issues any.” She tried out a half-smile, the first in hours.

“Apology accepted,” he returned her smile and added, “I took that drawer space.”

“Good,” she said, and her heart lifted a little. He was staying. “Will you tell me about your father now?”

His smile drained away, but he nodded. “My father was a first class jackass yesterday, worse than ever. I got the usual lecture about being worthless before he ordered me to leave his office and never come back.” Ian chomped down on his pizza.

“He didn’t say that. He couldn’t have!” She said immediately. Ian must have been exaggerating; Ian was a great guy, what would he have to be upset about?

“Verbatim, I swear.”

“That’s awful.” She frowned, trying to puzzle it out. “Did you fight about something in particular?”

“He tries to manipulate people.” Ian’s head was bent over his plate, giving Colette the idea that he didn’t want to make eye contact with her right now. “I called him on it.”

“Manipulating you?”

“And others. He’s almost eighty-five. I thought he might have mellowed. Guess not.” They ate in silence for a few minutes.